The offal of our community keep me busy. Calls to examine evidence come in at all hours.
I finish the overtime too exhausted to climb the stairs and collapse anywhere to grab a few precious z's before my regular shift.
In my free time, there are sources to interview...
Research to conduct...
And reports to write.
The twins are nearly ready for high school. Macklin wants to grow up to be king.
Devin is unimpressed.
He wants to grow up to be an illustrious author.
And now Byron is in school as well.
With the boys in school, I could be anywhere at any hour:
From looking into money laundering at a charity ball,
To researching arms smuggling in Shang Simla,
To investigating ticket forgeries in Al Simhara.
Fortunately, Blaine has taken on the lion's share of the cooking.
And cleaning.
When he discovered that I'd kept seeds from my parents' garden, there was no peace until I permitted him to plant them.
Marlowe helps me out with research when he doesn't have a case of his own.
Giving me some time to learn the piano.
And paint, mostly in the same honeycomb style that Daddo used. I call this one "Grey Matter".
Macklin turned thirteen without incident, at a small family party.
As did Devin.
Unlike Byron.
It isn't fair of me to blame Byron. It was Macklin who decided to raid the bar.
Unaware that his father was watching out the window.
Which put an end to an otherwise lovely party.
Marlowe's trying boot camp tactics.
Which leaves Macklin obdurate.
Meanwhile, Byron is wont to play with fire whenever he's left to his own devices.
I was able to nail Macklin down for a prom portrait.
Devin, as usual, was too quick for me.
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