P.i. - Magnum

I squatted down. Eye level. The way you talk to kids and cornered men. “Boyd, she doesn’t want you back. She wants the deed to the catamaran. The one you signed over to a shell company named after your girlfriend’s middle name.” His face went the color of old tuna. “How did you—”

I hung up. Smiled. Drove toward the sunset with one hand on the wheel and one problem less. Magnum P.I.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.