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ages.”
    â€œRae, I don’t think …”
    â€œCome on, Bliss. Don’t be such a chicken. I do my own hair and, look, it’s fine.” She shook her multi-shaded blond mane. It did look good, but I didn’t really want to look like the cheerleader Rae once was.
    â€œLook,” she coaxed, “I have a base colour that’s the same as your own. Then I have two accent colours to highlight with, copper and caramel. It will be subtle, but look gorgeous. And I’ll trim your hair just a bit. That way you can still pull it back in a ponytail when you’re working.”
    My hair badly needed a cut, and cheap shampoos and no conditioners had faded my light brown colour to a shade not unlike the lichen on a pile of north-
facing rocks.
    â€œOkay, let’s do it.”
    Two hours later, Rae had gone back to her own trailer to dress before church and I was contemplating myself in the chipped mirror in my tiny, non-functioning bathroom. I had to admit my hair looked good. I swung it back and forth and applied lipstick and eyeliner. The mascara and the light green eyeshadow had dried out long ago.
    Grabbing a mystery paperback I’d started months ago, I made myself comfortable on the front step and let the sun warm my face and bare arms. Beside me, the shiny purple paint on Rae’s trailer shot shards of light into my eyes. I changed position, and this left me facing the Quigley residence.
    Ewan and Sarah Quigley’s trailer was, like mine, still the original beige it left the showroom in thirty or forty years ago. Two webbed lawn chairs that had seen better years sat out front beside a pile of empty beer cartons. The stringy, sixtyish Sarah was fond of sitting in one of the chairs in her leathery birthday suit, but thankfully she was absent today. Several times, I waved at her and called out a friendly greeting, but she stared silently across the compound until I turned away in embarrassment. Now I pretended not to notice her tanning her wrinkled hide.
    I kept an eye on my watch. I wanted my weekly treat at Tim Hortons before the house showing, and for a moment I let myself fantasize about closing the sale. The Barrister house was listed at one hundred and sixty thousand, so if the buyer offered a hundred and forty-five, say, and the commission was six percent, which I would have to split with Elaine, I would get …
    Visions of enough money to find an out-of-town lawyer brave enough to take on the Weasel danced in my head. When I heard voices behind me, I turned in alarm, thinking that some of Ewan’s disreputable friends might be drunk and ready for love. Not that I could easily be mistaken for Rae.
    Instead, I looked up into two sets of mirrored sunglasses, one worn by a female cop and the other by … definitely not a female.
    Damn. Somebody ratted on Rae and the cops were here to arrest her for prostitution. I glanced at Rae’s purple trailer. Some days you could see the trailer rocking, but since it was Sunday, all was still. I was determined to know nothing and say nothing about Rae’s activities.
    â€œAre you Bliss Cornwall?” asked the taller of the two. I noticed that his uniform was a good fit, tailored exactly to his body measurements. His hands rested on his belt, close to his gun.
    â€œYes?”
    He took off his hat, revealing short, spiky blond hair. “Well, you are or you aren’t Bliss Cornwall. Which is it?”
    â€œYes, I am Bliss Moonbeam Cornwall. Can I help you?”
    â€œMoonbeam? Interesting middle name you have.” The female cop snickered. She had a slim figure and was close to my age. Dark hair was pinned back under her cap.
    â€œMy parents were wannabe flower children. They were too late for the sixties, so they tried to compensate by naming their daughters Bliss Moonbeam and Blyth Starlight. I believe it has strengthened our characters.” Celebrate your own uniqueness. That was another of my rules.
    She