A group of Italian teenagers cut in line in front of us and I stared down the leader of the little wolfpack as he stepped on my sneaker to get to his friends. I was just reaching for my knitting needles when Mary Alice gripped my arm.
âPlay nice,â she murmured.
âI wasn't going to kill him,â I muttered back. âBut a little light stabbing might teach him some manners.â
âFocus on the job. Iâll trip him when we get inside,â she promised.
âThatâs real friendship,â I told her.
- Killers of a Certain Age, Deanna Raybourn






















