One whiff of the cheap perfume at the door, she went ballistic.
“Gotta smell the same as when you left,” she declared, and chunked me out.
Tried to tell her cops contact odors a car-wash won’t erase. Funny, I was innocent, that time at least.
I moved into my pickup.
Gary Clifton, forty years a cop, has fiction pieces pending with over sixty venues. Retired, he has an M.S. from Abilene Christian University.