Happiness Key
The old man still wasn't answering.
Tracy Deloche made a fist and banged the border of Herb Krause's screen door, wincing when a splinter won the round.
Flipping her fist, she dug out the offending sliver with nails that were seriously in need of the attentions of her favorite manicurist. Unfortunately, sweet-natured Hong Hanh was more than two thousand miles away, filing and polishing for outrageous tips at the Beverly Wilshire hotel, while Tracy banged and shouted and tried to collect Herbert Krause's measly rent payment so she could put something in her refrigerator and gas tank.
"Mr. Krause, are you there?" she shouted.
"Well, what's up with that?" she muttered when nobody answered. She could see his ancient Dodge sedan parked behind the house. She'd been sure her timing was perfect. Apparently she was as good at collecting money as she was at everything else these days.
Tracy flopped down on a wooden bench beside three carefully arranged orchids in clay pots. Something green and slimy flashed past her and vanished in the Spanish moss mulch. Florida was like that, teeming with things that darted at you day and night, some with more scrawny legs than a buck ... read full excerpt from: Happiness Key ebook