Slightly Irregular by Rhonda Pollero

with a partially masticated bit of food in her pudgy cheeks.
    I sure as hell wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I introduced myself, pulled out my ID, then handed her the form and said, “I need to know the name and address of the box holder.”
    Her washed-out green eyes narrowed. “Got a subpoena?”
    “No, ma’am.” I placed my file on the counter and flipped to the notarized Letters of Administration authorizing me to obtain any information regarding the estate of Walter Egghardt. “I’m trying to find the person who sent this.” I paused and pulled out the envelope and money order. “There’s a possibility this individual is an heir.”
    She looked at the document while she finished chewing, then swallowed. “I’ll have to get clearance from Frankie on this.”
    I reached over and tapped the court-assigned case number. “This is a legal document. I’ve routinely gotten post office information in the past.”
    “Not from me, you haven’t.”
    “How long will it take for Frankie to review this?” I asked, careful to hide my annoyance. I knew from experience that small towns aren’t the place for sarcasm.
    “To review it?” she repeated. “I imagine he’ll take care of it quickly.”
    “Great.”
    “He won’t be in until noon, though.”
    I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth after checking my watch. “What time would you like me to come back?”
    She shrugged her broad shoulders. “One, one thirty.”
    I had at least an hour and a half to kill. So I reclaimed my file—minus the form—and, after she’d made a copy of my Letter of Administration, I went out to my car. There wasn’t a lot to do in Indiantown, so I decided to head up to the Vero Beach outlets.
    Never go to the grocery store hungry—or, in my case, to an outlet when you’re in a crummy mood. I found some super-cute watches at the Liz Claiborne store as well as purses at both Coach and Dooney & Bourke. But my find of the day was a stunning black silk taffeta dress with front and back V necklines and a darling grosgrain belt with chiffon accents. It retailed for two fifteen but I got the dress at the bargain price of one hundred because of a lipstick smudge along the neckline. Not a problem for my killer dry cleaner. Now I could stop stressing over the rehearsal dinner.
    It was close to three thirty by the time I returned to the post office. The parking lot was empty, which was great since I wanted the information in a hurry.
    Again I took my file and walked up to the door, pulled on the handle, only to find it locked. Creating a tunnel with my cupped hands, I looked through the glass door for signs of life. It was dark. Then I looked around and found the sign: HOURS OF OPERATION 8–3.
    My entire vocabulary of curse words swirled in my head. The last thing I wanted to do was come back tomorrow. The onlyway I could avoid a second trip was almost worse than actually making the trip.
    I walked back to my car with the enthusiasm of walking to the guillotine. As a PI, Liam had access to the Post Office Box Break. All he would have to do is hit the database and almost instantly, he’d have a reverse post office box listing. Too bad I didn’t know any other PIs.
    Disconnecting my phone, I tapped Favorites, which so was not true at this juncture, then touched Liam’s name.
    On the third ring, he answered, “Hi, Finley. How are things in Indiantown?”
    “How did you know—never mind. I need you to give me a reverse post box listing.”
    “Someone got up on the wrong side of her coffee cup. I’m guessing this has something to do with Jane?”
    “Don’t flatter yourself. I can’t think of a reason why I’d care two shakes about your going home with one of my best friends.”
    “I’m sure Jane told you that’s all I did.”
    “Of course, right after she told me how you’d undressed her.”
    “For someone who isn’t interested in me, you sure sound pissed.”
    Arrogant snot . I sighed loudly. “Can I please have the