He shoved his thumbs into the corners of his eyeballs to ward off the distant throb. “Okay. Why are we concerned about Riley?”
“You’d know if you’d answer your stupid phone. We got ourselves a Code Cabbage Casserole!”
He sifted through his memory banks for his neighbors’ ridiculous call codes. “Someone broke into the house?” he asked. “Yours or mine?”
“Did you eat a bowl of Big Dummy Wheat Flakes for breakfast?” Mrs. Penny demanded, stomping an orthopedic shoe on the floor.
“Not to my knowledge,” he answered as Burt shoved his head into Nick’s lap, happily licking refried beans off his muzzle. He gave the dog a pat and wondered if refried-bean farts would peel some of the hideous wallpaper in the guest room upstairs. “That’s what a Cabbage Casserole is. A Sparkle Poo is when someone is being targeted by a known serial killer.”
It sounded ridiculous even as the words came out of his mouth.
Mrs. Penny threw up her hands again. Burt watched hopefully for another burrito to be thrown. “Fine. What’s the code for your girlfriend dropped us off at China China and never came back? Do you know how hard it is to find an Uber that will pick up Marmaduke here?”
“I’m sure if Riley didn’t come back for you, she had a good reason.”
He could think of a million reasons why anyone wouldn’t want the pair in their vehicle. Hell, he didn’t particularly want them in his office.
If he could get Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Biceps out of his office, Nick could call Harrisburg’s retired fire chief and grill him about the warehouse arson again before the guy headed into his cycling class.
Gabe politely raised a gigantic hand. “If I may interject. I believe Mrs. Penny may have inadvertently left out an important piece of information.”
Nick gestured at the man, then flipped open the folder containing the arson inspector’s report. “Interject away, Dwayne Johnson.”
“Riley dropped us off because a suspicious elongated vehicle was following us.”
Mrs. Penny slapped herself in the forehead, knocking her glasses askew. “Oh yeah. The limo. Forgot about that.”
On the verge of banning the Two Musketeers from his officeandhis house, Nick paused. “What. Limo?”
“The one that followed us to Riley’s parents’ house while we were planning your sur—”
Moving swiftly for a large man, Gabe grabbed one of the couch cushions and held it over Mrs. Penny’s face.
“Mmmph!” The elderly woman waved her arms in an attempt to dislodge the upholstery.
“Do not listen to her. She is full of deep-fried foods and is speaking gibberish,” Gabe insisted.
“What. Limo?” Nick demanded, harnessing the last iota of his self-control.
Mrs. Penny finally succeeded in batting the cushion away. “Smells like farts! Disgusting!”
“A limousine followed us to the home of Riley’s parents. It appeared again when we left for lunch. Riley, fearing for our safety, dropped us off at the restaurant and led them away.”
Nick felt his heart stop and then restart in overdrive. He shot out of his chair, a familiar sense of panic clutching at him.
“That’s the last we saw of her,” Mrs. Penny said. “We had to eat her sesame chicken so it wouldn’t get cold. Well, we ate the second platter after Burt ate the first one.”
“Riley promised to return when it was safe. However, she did not come back,” Gabe continued ominously.
“Where’s my phone?” Nick barked, frantically clearing paperwork off the shitty table he used as a desk like he was the star of a porno.
Why was his office such a fucking mess?
And why the fuck did his girlfriend constantly feel the need to insert herself into dangerous situations? Didn’t she know what happened to nice girls who got too close to bad people?
He should have been more vigilant. Had he learned nothing?
Burt galloped around the desk and nosed through the mess like he wanted to be part of the search party.
