Chapter 48

And then Ricky walked in, plaid from head to toe, from his pom-pom-topped tam right on down to his golf shoes. “Well?” he asked.

“Hole in one,” I commented.

“What’s that smell, though?” Dara asked, nose scrunched up.

Ricky held up a bottle of Windex and then sprayed himself with it before tucking it into the back of his pants. “Nice vintage.”

I nodded. “And it makes your elbows shine.”

“Yep, win/win,” he quipped. “Now let’s get a move-on. No telling when the call will come in. Because, if they’re in some sort of partnership, like we’re pretty certain they are, then they certainly need to somehow communicate.”

I nodded my agreement. “Think we can make it back to the disco before the queens make it off the ferry?”

Ricky was smiling. I think. Hard to tell with a zombie. He then pointed outside. “Your carriage awaits, Madame.”

I followed his point with my eyes. They landed on a golf cart. “Marina Security,” I read aloud. “No way can that thing still work after all this time.”