Free No Such Thing as a Lost Cause by Shelly Fredman

what he does…or who he’s with. I mean, I love the guy—but who the hell is he? I have
     no friggin’ idea.”
    “And maybe you’re just a little afraid to find out.”
    “Yeah. Maybe.” In truth it was more like if he had time to think about it, maybe he’d
     change his mind about me. But I just couldn’t admit that. Not even to Fran.
    We hung out the rest of the afternoon watching Dora the Explorer and pretending we’d
     put it on for the baby. I just love that Dora. She’s a little spitfire!
    The sun had already set by the time I left Fran’s. She walked me to the door, hesitating
     as I stepped outside.
    “I know it won’t do any good to ask you to stop your investigation,” she said, “so
     just be careful, okay?”
    “I will. Thanks. And, uh, thanks for talking to me today. I really don’t know how
     to repay you. Say! Would you like a puppy?”
    *****
    Two nights later I was headed home, having just wrapped up the latest humiliating
     effort to hang onto my job, doing a promo as the ever-popular Godfrey. (“
This rush hour traffic report is brought to you by Doggie Donuts. So good, you may
     be tempted to dunk them in your morning coffee—but save them for your canine pals!”
) The costume weighed about twenty-pounds. It’s a bitch to take off, so I didn’t bother
     to change back into my street clothes. Plus, it was kind of fun to see the looks on
     people’s faces when I pulled up next to them at red lights.
    I turned onto my street and immediately tensed as a slew of police cars came into
     view; their rotating lights making my head ache. They had converged on a house at
     the other end of the block. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was my house.
    Oh, crap! The dog’s owner must’ve changed his mind about wanting his dog back, and
     now they’re here to arrest me…is dognapping a federal offense? I could go to jail…
     I can’t go to jail! I’m claustrophobic…I hate sharing a bathroom…Prison jumpsuits
     only come in orange… What do I do? What do I do? I’ll keep driving. I’ll just cruise
     on down past my house, real nonchalant, check it all out…
    As I got closer, I panicked and tried to cut a u-ie in the middle of the road, only
     my street is so narrow I grazed my neighbor’s bumper and set off his car alarm. As
     Mr. Yong came out of the house to see who was trying to make off with his Ford Fiesta,
     a uniformed cop stuck his head in through my car window. Fortunately, it was Mike
     Mahoe, a friend of mine.
    “Brandy?”
    I reached up and removed the top of the costume, revealing my sweaty, prison-bound
     head. “I don’t want to go to jail, Mike. I can explain about the dog.” I started to
     blurt out the whole story, but Mike drowned me out.
    “Brandy. It’s not about some dog. It’s—ah, hell, just try not to freak.” He stepped
     away from the car and I squinted into the growing darkness and freaked.

Chapter Five
    I scrambled out of the car and thrust Godfrey’s head at Mike’s chest. “Hold this,”
    I yelled and bounded toward my house. A crowd had formed, and I battled my way through.
     Mahoe trotted along behind and yelled for me to wait up.
    Shards of broken glass lay strewn on my front porch, carnage created by a spray of
     bullets that splintered the front door and shattered every window facing the street.
     I reached the yellow tape that marked off the crime scene and ducked under it. A hand
     shot out, grabbed me by the collar and yanked me back.
    “Let go, Mike. Rocky and the dogs are in the house. I have to get in there.”
    “You can’t. They haven’t finished checking out the premises yet.”
    “But they could be hurt—”
    “All right, give me a minute, and I’ll talk to the officer in charge.” He handed back
     Godfrey’s head. “Stay put,” he ordered.
    “Yeah, I’ll do just that.” Hysteria made my voice hoarse. I turned and stormed back
     toward my car.
    “You know, I’m not the enemy here,” he shouted after