Go Downstairs Quotes & Sayings

Could you just go downstairs and lock up the headless body first, please?
It's reasonable request. — Kirsty McKay

We go downstairs and in the hall, he takes my coat from the cupboard and holds it open while I slip my arms into it. In the drive outside, he holds the car door for me and waits until I'm in. As he closes it behind me, I can't help thinking it's a shame he's such a sadistic bastard, because he has wonderful manners. — B.A. Paris

She nagged him for years about moving into the empty downstairs guest room, but Ove refused. After a decade or so she realized that this was his way of showing her that he had no intention of giving up. That God and the universe and all the other things would not be allowed to win. That the swine could go to hell. So she stopped nagging. On — Fredrik Backman

It just seemed too weird to me. I don't know, maybe they were smoking a joint in the car downstairs from their parents' apartment. I had to go that far to put together a scenario of how they could have possibly recognized me. — Marc Jacobs

she wants to give her Rusheen, she wants to go out home just for the day and go back to the same solicitor that she has already been to and make a new will giving her Rusheen. "There's no hurry," Eleanora says. "But you love it, don't you?" "Yes, I love it." "Then it's decided . . . go downstairs to the matron and tell her we're going out for the day. . . " Eleanora looks rapidly and frantically about — Edna O'Brien

Burglars are getting very clever these days. Last night, my wife woke me up, "Darling! Darling! There's a burglar downstairs!!" So I go down, check every room and don't find anyone. Then I realized I don't have a wife and when I went back upstairs my bed and TV were gone. — Steve Evans

Claiming "the budget can't allow it" reminds me of when you walk into a restaurant at a civilized hour like ten o'clock and they say "the kitchen is closed." For years I would hear this, and think, "damn, just a little too late, oh well, thank you, I guess it's Denny's again."
And then one day it hit me: kitchens don't close. Just as at home, at a certain point in the night, I stop using the kitchen
but at three in the morning, if I want to, I still have the ability to go downstairs and "re-open" the kitchen by turning on the stove and opening the refrigerator! Restaurants are not banks; at the stroke of ten an enormous airlock doesn't seal off the kitchen and render the preparation of food an utter impossibility./ No, kitchens can open and budgets are what certain people say they are. — Bill Maher

Don't go downstairs for a bit." "Why not?" said Ron. "Mum's crying again," said Fred heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper." "Without a note," added George. "Hasn't asked how — J.K. Rowling

I brought the birdcages to the windows.
I opened the windows, and opened the birdcages.
I poured the fish down the drain.
I took the dogs and cats downstairs and removed their collars.
I released the insects onto the street.
And the reptiles.
And the mice.
I told them, Go.
All of you.
Go.
And they went.
And they didn't come back — Jonathan Safran Foer

I understand that you have an urgent task for me."
"I do."
"What is it?"
"I want you to go to the coffee shop and get me something to eat."
"That-" Lauren choked. "That's your idea of urgent?"
"Very urgent," Nick replied imperturbably. "I happen to be starved."
Lauren clenched her hands into fists. "To you I may mrely be some frivolous, amusing sexual object, but downstairs I have an important job to do, and Jim needs me."
"I need you,honey.I've been here since-"
"Don't you dare call me honey!" she burst out, reeling with unwanted joy at the casual endearment.
"Why not?" he cajoled, a smile lighting his face. "You're sweet."
"You won't think so if you call me honey again," Lauren promised.
His brows drew together at her tone, and Lauren had to remind herself that he was still her boss. "Oh all right!" she capitulated ungraciously. "What do you eat for breakfast?"
"Irritating secretaries," he mocked. — Judith McNaught

If I'm hanging around too much, my wife and kids say, 'Hey, why don't you go downstairs and start a new novel?' — Nick Cave

I don't have any weird night rituals. I definitely am a ritualistic person ... I like to go downstairs and remind my roommate-drummer not to practice early the next morning, so I can sleep in. — Charlie Worsham

Having to read footnotes resembles having to go downstairs to answer the door while in the midst of making love. — Noel Coward

The boy sat in my room for fifteen minutes last night working up the nerve to go downstairs and talk to you. Then he cam back and said 'We ate cookies. See you in the morning,' and went to his room. Give me something, Chloe. — Nikki Godwin

Merry Christmas," said George. "Don't go downstairs for a bit."
"Why not?" said Ron.
"Mum's crying again," said Fred heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper." [I guess that's a sweater, though my jury is still out on it until I get a future confirmation.]
"Without a not," added George. "Hasn't asked how Dad is or visit him [in the hospital] or anything ... "
"We tried to comfort her," said Fred, moving around the bed to look at Harry's portrait. "Told her Percy's nothing but a humongous pile of rat droppings
"
"
didn't work," said George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. "So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon. — J.K. Rowling

My writing habits are pretty static. I get up every morning between 6 and 7 am, grab a cup of coffee, say a few prayers, and go downstairs to my office and start writing. — Mitch Albom

When I wake up earlier than you and you
are turned to face me, face
on the pillow and hair spread around,
I take a chance and stare at you,
amazed in love and afraid
that you might open your eyes and have
the daylights scared out of you.
But maybe with the daylights gone
you'd see how much my chest and head
implode for you, their voices trapped
inside like unborn children fearing
they will never see the light of day.
The opening in the wall now dimly glows
its rainy blue and gray. I tie my shoes
and go downstairs to put the coffee on. — Ron Padgett

I go downstairs and the books blink at me from the shelves. Or stare. In a trick of the light, a row of them seems to shift very slightly, like a curtain blown by the breeze through an open window. Red is next to blue is next to cream is adjacent to beige. But when I look again, cream is next to green is next to black. A tall book shelters a small book, a huge Folio bullies a cowering line of Quartos. A child's nursery rhyme book does not have the language in which to speak to a Latin dictionary. Chaucer does not know the words in which Henry James communicates but here they are forced to live together, forever speechless. — Susan Hill

For novelists or musicians, if they really want to create something, they need to go downstairs and find a passage to get into the second basement. What I want to do is go down there, but still stay sane. — Haruki Murakami

The knives in my apartment are only sharp enough to open envelopes with. Cutting a slice of coarse bread is on the borderline of their ability. I don't need anything sharper. Otherwise, on bad days, it might easily occur to me that I could always go stand in the bathroom in front of the mirror and slit my throat. On such occasions it's nice to have the added security of needing to go downstairs and borrow a decent knife from a neighbor. — Peter Hoeg

I turned around and headed back to the stairwell, planning to go downstairs and buy a chocolate bar from the vending machine. Maybe it would fall on me and end my misery. — Kenneth Oppel

If I get a week off, I'll go to a hotel that has a golf course. I like to come downstairs and go right onto the course. I'll do that five days in a row. — Lewis Black

Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more. — Donald Miller

My first memory in the world is my gym teacher ripping my mother's necklace off her neck and throwing it out the window and her running downstairs to go after it. I have no memory before that. I was 4. My father had a lot of girlfriends and my mother had a lot of boyfriends. — Mike Nichols

A few minutes later, Phantom returned with a gown. "'Tis not fancy, but it will suffice."
They left Adara alone to dress. Corryn ran off to wait with the men downstairs while Phantom and Christian waited in the hallway. "If you want, I will go to the jail and kill them before we leave," Phantom offered.
It was tempting, but not realistic. Not even Phantom was that talented. "You can't do that."
Phantom laughed evilly. "Trust me, I could get into their cell and have their throats slit and be out again before even they knew it." There were times when Phantom almost scared him. He didn't know what disturbed him more, the fact that Phantom offered or the fact that he seemed so willing to spill their blood.
"Adara says to leave them be."
Phantom shook his head as if he couldn't believe what Christian had said. "She's an incredible lady, isn't she?"
Christian nodded. "Her strength amazes me. — Kinley MacGregor

It is June 27, 1912. You are lying in your bed in the Grand Hotel and it is 6 p.m. on the evening of June 27, 1912. Your mind accepts this absolutely. 6 p.m. on June 27, 1912. Elise McKenna is in this hotel at this very moment. Her manager, William Fawcett Robinson, is in this hotel at this very moment. Now, this moment, here. Both in the Grand Hotel on this evening of June 27, 1912. 6 p.m. on June 27, 1912. Elise McKenna, now, in this hotel. She and her company are in this hotel at this very moment. Now on June 27, 1912, 6 p.m. Your mind accepts this, absolutely. You have traveled back in time, soon you will open your eyes. You will walk into the corridor, and you will go downstairs and you will find Elise McKenna, who is in this hotel at this very moment. — Richard Matheson

Sudden I stopped. I was out of breath. I asked myself, "What is this all about? What is the meaning of this ceaseless rush? This is ridiculous!" Then I declared independence, and said, "I do not care if I go to dinner. I do not care whether I make a talk. I do not have to go to this dinner and I do not have to make a speech." So deliberately and slowly I walked back to my room and took my time about unlocking the door. I telephoned the man downstairs and said, "If you want to eat, go ahead. If you want to save a place for me, I will be down after a while, but I am not going to rush any more." So I removed my coat, sat down, took off my shoes, put my feet up on the table, and just sat. Then I opened the Bible and very slowly read aloud the 121st Psalm, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help." I closed the book and had a little talk with myself, saying, "Come on now, start living a slower and more relaxed life," and then I affirmed, "God is here and His — Norman Vincent Peale

And Eth couldn't help looking. It's been years since he's seen a beautiful naked woman in the flesh. I'd be worried about him if he hadn't looked."
"He's a minister!"
"It was a blessed event. You sure you don't want me to hang that robe up?"
"You're making a joke out of this."
"Absolutely not. Only an insensitive jerk would think something this traumatic was funny. Tell you what. I'll go downstairs right this minute and kill him before he gets away. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Don't you think we're going to go to hell for this?" asked Lissa.
He reached out and touched her face, trailing his fingers along her cheek and neck and down to the top of her silky shirt. She breathed heavily at that touch, at the way it could be so gentle and small, yet evoke such a strong passion within her.
"For this?" He played with the shirt's edge, letting his finger just barely brush inside of it.
"No," she laughed. "For this." She gestured around the attic. "This is a church. We shouldn't be doing this kind of, um, thing up here."
"Not true," he argued. Gently, he pushed her onto her back and leaned over her. "The church is downstairs. This is just storage. God won't mind. — Richelle Mead

There would be nights when I would wake up and couldn't get back to sleep. So I would go downstairs and write. The staff had a pool going on how many pages of typing I would bring in here in the morning. — Harold H. Greene

As soon as she was close, she whispered, "you've got to get out of here."
"No, you've got to get out of here," he told her. "Go downstairs. Go now."
"No," she countered. "You go."
"Why?" he asked.
"You tell me first."
But before they could say another word, the last elevator slid slowly open and two men in masks rushed out. From the opposite side of the of the ballroom, shots rang out, rapid fire, piercing the ceiling, plaster falling onto the dance floor like snow.
And then Hale and Macey whispered in unison, "Because of that. — Ally Carter

Phocomelus Hoppy Harrington generally wheeled up to Modern TV Sales & Service about eleven each morning. He generally glided into the shop, stopping his cart by the counter, and if Jim Fergesson was around he asked to be allowed to go downstairs to watch the two TV repairmen at work. However, if Fergesson was not around, Hoppy gave up and after a while wheeled off, because he knew that the salesmen would not let him go downstairs;' they merely ribbed him, gave him the run-around. He did not mind. Or at least as far as Stuart McConchie could tell, he did not mind. — Philip K. Dick

When I go downstairs, my mom tells me I need to tuck in my shirt and wear a belt, "Why?" I ask, because I do not really care if I look respectable or not. I only want to get rid of Tiffany once and for all. — Matthew Quick

I used to hate swimming at school so much that I would always sneak downstairs in the middle of the night and take my swimming costume out of my gym bag and hide it in the house somewhere. Then I'd never have to go swimming at school. This went on for months and I never got caught and my Mum turned into a nervous wreck because the thought she was losing her memory ... and then one day she caught me and got super angry. That was kind of bad. — Charli XCX

No offense, but I'm getting stir-crazy. Can we please go downstairs and hang in the bar or do anything that keeps me from sitting here bored out of my mind while the three of you watch me grow eyebrow hair? I mean really, I am fine. I'm not going to spontaneously combust or do anything else freaky. Promise. (Tory) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Okay. Enough." I got out of the closet, brushing myself off, then turned around to face her. "This is happening. So you need to go downstairs, face your fears, and make the best of it, and everything will be okay."
She narrowed her eyes at me. "When did you suddenly become so positive?"
"Just get out of there. — Sarah Dessen

And oh, when we still used to sleep together, lying awake at night and finding one's only consolation in imagining in detail how one would go downstairs and find a hatchet and smash one's partners head in and mash it into a bloody pudding on the pillow! — Iris Murdoch

What we need to question is bricks, concrete, glass, our table manners, our utensils, our tools, the way we spend our time, our rhythms. To question that which seems to have ceased forever to astonish us. We live, true, we breathe, true; we walk, we go downstairs, we sit at a table in order to eat, we lie down on a bed on order to sleep. How? Where? When? Why?
Describe your street. Describe another. Compare. — Georges Perec

Would you like to try this again then, another time?"
"I'd very much like to try this again, another time." He grinned, but it carried a touch of sadness. "I'll give you a second to ... uh ... fix your hair."
"My hair?"
"I'll give you a second to fix my hair. I mean, I'll give you a second while I go fix my hair." He let out a sigh. "I mean, I'll see you downstairs."
He turned to walk out of the room, but unfortunately, he forgot to open the door first. I managed to hold my laughter until he got it right. — Myra McEntire

Every time I felt the pain coming on I'd go downstairs and hammer out an idea. After a few months I started to take a look at what I was making, I had for the first time in my life written a large grip of songs completely alone and without any expectations or plans of what they would be for. — Frank Iero

... I hate myself for not being able to go downstairs naturally and seek comfort in numbers. I hate myself for having to sit here and be torn between I know not what within me. — Sylvia Plath

I usually have about four books on the go - a bedside book, a lavatory book, a downstairs book, and the book in my study that I read sneakily while I should be writing. Short stories for the lavatory, obviously. — Mal Peet

We tiptoe around like we're the Frank family and the Gestapo is downstairs. The baby monitor is in our room, and the unspoken rule is that when the kids go down, so do we. So at seven P.M., I'm in bed waiting for the sandman to come. I can't watch TV, because the noise may wake up the kids; I can't listen to music with my iPod earbuds, because then I can't hear the monitor; and I can't have sex, because that could wake up Janice. — Billy Crystal

Scotty, what's wrong?" For a moment, Scott ignored the sleepy, querulous voice of the man occupying the other half of his bed. Then he turned back from the window to look at the guy whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him and said, "Nothing, just a nightmare. Sorry. Go back to sleep." "Maybe I don't want to sleep now," the man pouted. Scott shrugged. "Then get dressed and go home. Makes me no nevermind." "Well, I never," the man huffed. "I guess I might as well. Looks like nothing more's going to be happening here." With a shrug, Scott grabbed his robe then put it on as he strode out of the bedroom. When he was downstairs in the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee, sighing — Edward Kendrick

I could wake up six in the morning, go downstairs and record. I learned how to use ProTools and everything. Whenever I felt it, I could record. — Beanie Sigel

Jacques' life was like the rooms of Montmartre women that are never cleaned because they get up at four o'clock and slip a coat over their nightgown to go downstairs and eat. — Jean Cocteau

I spend a lot of time working as a painter and in my studio I go from upstairs where I paint to downstairs where I play and record, so I get this thing crossing over. — Andy Summers

EAMES: There's a man here. Yusuf. He formulates his own versions of the compound.
COBB: Let's go see him.
EAMES: Once you've lost your tail.
(Cobb reacts)
Back by the bar, blue tie. Came in about two minutes after we did.
COBB: Cobol Engineering?
EAMES: They pretty much own Mombasa.
Cobb glances over the balcony.
COBB: Run interference. We'll meet downstairs in half an hour.
EAMES: Back here?
COBB: Last place they'd expect.
Eames downs his drink. Rises. Walks over to the Businessman.
EAMES: Freddy!
The Businessman looks up, awkward.
EAMES: Freddy Simmonds, it is you!
Cobb nonchalantly SLIPS over the balcony DROPPING HARD into the midst of the crowd on the street below.
EAMES: (looks harder) Oh. No, it isn't.
The Businessman looks past Eames but Cobb has vanished. — Christopher J. Nolan

Green leaned his head back, wanting everything Ruxs was going to do to him. "Upstairs. Get the fuck upstairs, Mark. We can't do it right here. What if Curtis comes downstairs?" Green panted. Thank god some portion of his brain was still working. "Oh shit. You're right." Ruxs chuckled softly, rubbing his hand up and down Green's body. "You're so goddamn beautiful, I can't think straight when I see you. You can't be walking around in a fuckin' silk robe, nothing but this soft material between me and your naked body." He squeezed Green's ass, thrust against him a couple more times before he dropped Green's robe back down and pulled his pajama pants back over his ass. "Go — A.E. Via

As a kid I would be put to bed when my parents had guests and because I was such a show-off I would go to my mum's room, put on her nightdress and Jackie Onassis shawl, run downstairs, go outside, ring the doorbell and pretend to be one of the guests. I'd say, 'Hello, I'm Mrs. So-and-So.' — Rupert Everett

From a distance a metronome is ticking through the fog, and I mechanically chew to the familiar caress of its music, counting, along with everyone else, up to fifty: fifty statutory chews for each mouthful. And, still mechanically beating out the time, I go downstairs, and, like everyone else, check off my name in the book as one leaving the premises. But I sense that I'm living separately from everyone else, alone, surrounded by a soft, soundproof wall, and that my world is on my side of this wall. — Yevgeny Zamyatin

I visited Jobs for the last time in his Palo Alto, Calif., home. He had moved to a downstairs bedroom because he was too weak to go up and down stairs. He was curled up in some pain, but his mind was still sharp and his humor vibrant. — Walter Isaacson

I'm friends with Criss Angel. Criss has offered me a million times to go downstairs and see the setup. I don't want to see it. I just want to go, 'God, how did you do that?' — Triple H

No, there wouldn't be," Holden said. "It'd be entirely different." Sally looked at him; he had contradicted her so quietly. "It wouldn't be the same at all. We'd have to go downstairs in elevators with suitcases and stuff. We'd have to call up everyone and tell 'em goodbye and send 'em postcards. And I'd have to work at my father's and ride in Madison Avenue buses and read newspapers. We'd have to go to the Seventy-second Street all the time and see newsreels. Newsreels! There's always a dumb horse race and some dame breaking a bottle over a ship. You don't see what I mean at all." "Maybe I don't. Maybe you don't, either," Sally said. Holden stood up, with his skates swung over one shoulder. "You give me a royal pain," he announced quite dispassionately. — J.D. Salinger

When you go upstairs, go up with high spirits; when you go downstairs, go down with high spirits. — Mehmet Murat Ildan

Where are you going?" I demanded.
He looked over his shoulder at me with an exasperated sigh. "To my room, of course."
"Can't we write the paper down here?" I asked.
The corners of Wesley's mouth turned slightly upward as he hooked a finger over his belt. "We could, Duffy, but the writing will go much faster if I'm typing, and my computer's upstairs. You're the one who said you wanted to get this over with. — Kody Keplinger

On the TV and in the newspapers all we hear and read is 'live your life or the terrorists win' and it sounds great, I'm all for that, except my kids won't ask for a bathroom pass because the faculty facilities are on the first floor of the building and the MPs patrolling the second floor won't go downstairs on their shift - so I've got middle school kids afraid to take a piss because there might be a soldier in the stall next to them carrying a loaded M- 16 - but hell yes, I'm all for 'live your life' and screw the terrorists, and screw all the countries who harbor and support them. I'm on board with that, except I've got these kids who stay home now, because they're scared riding a bus with soldiers carrying guns, knowing that one soldier isn't enough, so there's a military truck full of soldiers with even bigger guns following the bus 'just in case. — Tucker Elliot

But Noah, you're not supposed to do this, and I can't let you. So go back to your room." Then smiling softly and sniffling and shuffling some papers on the desk, she says: "Me, I'm going downstairs for some coffee. I won't be back to check on your for a while, so don't do anything foolish."
She rises quickly, touches my arm, and walks toward the stairs. She doesn't look back, and suddenly I am alone. I don't know what to think. I look at where she had been sitting and see her coffee, a full cup, still steaming, and once again I learn that there are good people in the world. — Nicholas Sparks

I went on into the lab. Robert and Renny were both there, standing uncertainly together and looking as if they didn't quite know what their characters would do when the eye-fucker struck again, and didn't really want to hear anybody tell them. I told them anyway. "Let's go," I said. They both blinked at me like uncertain owls. "Go?" Robert said. Renny licked his lips. "Crime scene," I said. "Nothing like it for learning about crime scenes." They looked at each other like they were both hoping the other would come up with a really good way to suggest we go for coffee instead, but neither of them did, and so we followed Vince downstairs and out of the building. — Jeff Lindsay

When I go to business meetings, I'm still told way too often by some receptionist, 'The mail room is downstairs,' to believe that racial perceptions don't still exist. But I figure there are always going to be knuckleheads no matter how many of their herd get stuck in the tar pits of progress. — John Ridley

At such times Daddy, Mummy and Margot leave me cold. I wander from one room to another, downstairs and up again, feeling like a songbird whose wings have been clipped and who is hurling himself in utter darkness against the bars of his cage. "Go outside, laugh, and take a breath of fresh air," a voice cries within me, but I don't even feel a response any more; I go and lie on the divan and sleep, to make the time pass more quickly, and the stillness and terrible fear, because there is no way of killing them. — Anne Frank

Can go downstairs right now and let my mom know how I'm feeling - if she's even home - but she'll tell me to help myself to the Advil in her purse and that I need to relax and stop getting myself worked up, because in this house there's no such thing as being sick unless you can measure it with a thermometer under the tongue. Things fall into categories of black and white - bad mood, bad temper, loses control, feels sad, feels blue. — Jennifer Niven

My sisters had been living in the House of Wind since they'd arrived in Velaris.
They did not leave the palace built into the upper parts of a flat-topped mountain overlooking the city. They did not ask for anything, or anyone.
So I would go to them.
Lucien was waiting in the sitting room when Rhys and I came downstairs at last, my mate having given the silent order for them to return.
Unsurprisingly, Cassian and Azriel were casually seated in the dining room across the hall, eating lunch and marking every single breath Lucien emitted. Cassian smirked at me, brows flicking up.
I shot him a warning glare that dared him to comment. Azriel, thankfully, just kicked Cassian under the table.
Cassian gawked at Azriel as if to declare I wasn't going to say anything while I approached the open archway into the sitting room, Lucien rising to his feet. — Sarah J. Maas

And when my heart is beating
too rapidly in the dark,
I will go downstairs in a robe,
open it up to a blank page,
and try to settle on the blue lines
whatever it is that seems to be the matter. — Billy Collins

Desford said abruptly: "How old are you, my child? Sixteen? Seventeen?"
"Oh, no, I am much older than that!" she replied. "I'm as old as Lucasta - all but a few weeks!"
"Then why are you not downstairs dancing with the rest of them?" he demanded. "You must surely be out!"
"No, I'm not," she said. "I don't suppose I ever shall be, either. Unless my papa turns out not to be dead, and comes home to take care of me himself. But I don't think that at all likely, and even if he did come home it wouldn't be of the least use, because he seems never to have sixpence to scratch with. I am afraid he is not a very respectable person. My aunt says he was obliged to go abroad on account of being monstrously in debt." She sighed, and said wistfully: "I know that one ought not to criticize one's father, but I can't help feeling that it was just a little thoughtless of him to abandon me. — Georgette Heyer

Basher shook his head. "No, we climbed in through a ground-floor guest bedroom all ninja-like. Snuck up the back stairs."
"Then you might be the cavalry," said Tom, "but I'm Santa Claus. Let's go downstairs and open some presents. — Jonathan Maberry

Sanchez got the phone call, listened carefully, glanced over at Spencer, in Whittaker's office, having his morning coffee. Hung up the phone, got up, went and knocked on the door, asked if he could see Spencer a moment, and lowering his voice said, "Carl downstairs just called me because someone wants to file a vagrancy report.
Spencer slapped him on the back. "Detective Sanchez, thank you for bringing the particulars of your job description to my attention. Well done. Go to it.
Sanchez hemmed and said, "The young woman says she is Lily Quinn. Specifically asked for me, Carl says.
Spencer didn't slap him on the back this time. He stared at Carl and then said, "All right smart-ass, go back to you desk.
"That's what I thought," said Sanchez. — Paullina Simons

dropped the leather satchel beside it. "There you go." He turned to leave, but she called his name. He stopped in the doorway but didn't turn. "You're not going to stay while I go through them?" He turned his head to the side. "So I can see what you packed to start your new life? No, Grace, I think I'll give that a pass." The distressed little sound she made echoing in his ears, he went downstairs, where he lay down on the couch and draped an arm over his eyes. Grace turned back to the bed, looking — Norah Wilson