“Don’t know if we have,” Lou said. His face looked mean, hard eyes, but his voice didn’t match, too soft. Yellowy-gray hair, close to mustard, and ketchup-ruddy cheeks. Clearly the man had never heard of retinol. “It’s been a pleasure working with your mom, and Gerry of course. Oh, that’s my wife, that scarecrow waving at me. Excuse me a minute.” “A pleasure?” Jet said, watching the chief go. “He must have the wrong Dianne Mason.” “Ha!” Gerry shouted it, not really a laugh. “You’re a funny one.”
