Page 35 of The Body in the Backyard

“What about the closet? It’s very large. There could be a whole bunch of bad guys hiding in there.”

“Nick will check,” Riley volunteered.

“Seriously, babe? I just want to go home and close out my birthday with you naked.”

“The sooner you check the closet for bad guys, the sooner we can go home and I can give you yourbirthday present,” she said out of the side of her mouth.

Nick stomped out of the bedroom, through the bathroom, and into the closet. Lights came on automatically, and an automated voice said, “Hello, Griffin. You are looking handsome today.”

“There’s no bad guys in here. Just a delusional robot.”

“That’s my automated wardrobe assistant,” Griffin called. “Isn’t that neat?”

Nick reappeared. “Swell. Try not to get murdered overnight.”

“Help yourself to the gummy trophies on your way out. A special fan sends me a bag every month.”

“Bye, Griffin,” Riley said as Nick took her hand and marched her out the door.

She arrested their forward momentum by the entryway table at the front door. Next to the stack of signed headshots was a fancy dish filled with packets of gummy candies.

“I’ll get you real food if you let us leave right now,” Nick promised.

She picked up one of the packets and smothered a laugh. “These aren’t trophies. These are gummy penises.”

“You’re telling me someone’s been sending Gentry a bag of dicks every month and he thinks they’re trophies?”

“Look! They’re even personalized.”

“I’m suddenly feeling less enraged,” he said, helping himself to a handful of the packets.

“I’m thinking about selling a kidney,”Nick said as he perused the touch-screen menu at Sheetz. The convenience store was crowded with late-night munchie customers. No one gave their elegant evening attire a second glance, because after midnight, everyone was equally weird at Sheetz.

“Which kidney? Ooh, get an order of fries too,” Riley said, peering over his shoulder.

“Whichever one doesn’t require us to see that walking cheese doodle again.”

“You have to admit, someone is definitely after him,” she pointed out.

He grunted and snatched the receipt from the printer’s teeth. “You’re not cheering me up.”

“I’m just pointing out that this is a legitimate way to earn the money we need to keep the business afloat. Plus, you get to be the hero while Griffin plays the pathetic, whiny victim.”

He guided her toward the register manned by an expressionless kid with bloodshot eyes and a sideways visor. “Yeah, and now in order to get that money, we have to comb through a list of suspects longer than Statue Griffin’s cock, find the bad guy, take them down, knock down Gentry’s I-deserve-everything-for-free-because-I’m-a-fucking-Muppet

entitlement, and pry open his checkbook for him.”

Riley frowned. “When you put it that way, this sucks.”

They tiptoedinto the darkened kitchen with their haul of gas station food.

“No Burt?” Nick noted when the big dog didn’t lumber out of the shadows.

“I wonder whose bed he’s sharing,” Riley said.

“Probably Penny’s. She snacks in bed,” he guessed, setting the bag on the counter. “I’ll get some plates.”

While he was occupied, Riley unlocked the pantry. It didn’t store as much food as it did power tools they’d confiscated from Fred and Mr. Willicott, and Lily’s recorder when she’d briefly taken music lessons from her grandson.