The Chrononauts
Chapter 12: We Meet Again

The next morning, the captain came in early. “When do those four wing nuts normally come in, Smithy?”

The sergeant laughed. “They usually appear about five minutes before you, sir.” Brady came through the door first. Captain Brown looked at his watch and gave him a nasty look.

Brady smiled “I stopped to buy doughnuts, Captain One box is all Bavarian crème.” The captain gave him a hearty hug. Brady was quickly followed by Grogan, Harvard, and Matt.

Dave called. Matt picked up the phone. “What’s up, Thong Boy?”

Dave laughed, “Will you give me a freaking break, guys?? Tell the captain I got the mysterious folder off the body. I’ll be up after lunch. Make sure Detective Brady is present.”

The facial reconstruction cost the captain front row fifty-yard line tickets for the Pats and Colts game. Matt pulled it up on the screen. “Does anybody know this guy?” Nobody did. Grogan thought he was good-looking.

Dave came up after lunch with a folder. He saw the face on the screen. Dave chuckled, “Hey, why do you have a picture of Mr. Wonderful on the screen?” All the detectives stared at him.

Matt spoke, “He was the pilot. Dave, you know this man?” Dave looked at Matt and laughed. “Are you guys kidding me? We all know him. We ate with him. He looked around for hidden cameras. What? Am I on TV or something?”

Matt looked at the rest of the detectives, who all shook their heads “no”. Dave gave them a sarcastic laugh. “Well, if that is true, how come I have a letter from the dead man for Brady…who does not know him?” He handed it to a surprised Brady.

He put it on the table for everyone to read: “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Brady, my name is Walter Wonderful. Since you are reading this, I am dead. Senator Howard could not be allowed to become president. He would have started World War Three.

I have looked for someone to adopt my granddaughter. Her parents died in an accident in Hawaii. I have searched for someone whom I can trust. You and your wife are the only ones worthy of her. She is nine years old and has a 200 IQ. She also has a full scholarship to MIT, my alma mater.”

It continued, “Her school has been notified that you might be visiting. You can freely refuse but I hope you will at least meet with her. If you decide on adoption, my lawyer will contact you with more details. Your friend, Walter.”

Dave looked at Brady. “You want to tell me again that you don’t know him?”

Mrs. B. sat in the back yard gardening, with Larry watching her every move. A white owl landed in the tree branch right above her. She gushed, “My, what a beautiful owl.” She got a surprising hoot in response from the owl.

Larry looked up excitedly and started barking and jumping around. The owl just looked down at him. Mrs. B. chuckled, “You’re a bold one. Most birds would have flown away.” The owl flew down and grabbed a stick. She soared slowly in a circle with Larry barking feverishly at her.

The owl dropped the stick and let Larry grab it. She soared over Larry as he ran. Brady had gotten home and watched the two playing. He laughed. “Who is Larry’s little friend, dear?”

Mrs. B. said, “She just showed up in the backyard. They seem to know each other. It is very strange.”

Brady put down the letter. “It gets stranger, dear.” Brady put down the letter for his wife to read. “It is from the triplane pilot that died while killing Senator Howard.”

She read it and looked over at her husband, “Well, what are you going to do?”

Brady smiled. “We have an appointment with her school director tomorrow morning.” Mrs. B. hopped up and down clapping and smiled broadly.

The school’s red brick front covered in old Boston ivy was intimidating. The director was not. Mrs. B. spoke to her, “This is all very strange to us. We don’t even know Mr. Wonderful.”

The director laughed. “Well, he seemed to know you well enough. Trust me; a lot of things involving Mr. Wonderful are strange.”

Brady asked, “Can you tell us a little about the girl?”

The director chuckled. “She is probably the smartest girl in the country. She is very normal-acting for a genius. Most don’t fit in with modern society. She has an exotic sense of humor, like her grandfather.”

She smiled. “The rest you can replace out for yourself. She is waiting for you in the garden through that gate. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her nervous.” The Bradys walked through the gate and there was mutual relief.

Victoria spoke first. “Thank God, you’re not dorks.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry for that. The school thinks I should be adopted by dorks. You are normal people, right?”

Mrs. B. started laughing. “That was priceless. People call me Mrs. B. and this is my trophy husband, Brady.”

Victoria laughed. “Hubba, hubba. Nice eye candy, Mrs. B.” Brady blushed badly. “Wow, and not a prima donna or gay. Top marks to you, Mrs. B. I am a little shy at first. I warm up quickly if I have time.” She sighed and said softly. “You can leave now if you want to”

Brady laughed. “No chance of that.” Mrs. B. held out her arms.

Victoria hugged her. “I have to give it to my grandfather. He is a good judge of character. My week has been bad until now. I lost my owl and my grandfather got killed...sort of.”

Mrs. B. laughed. “We might be able to help you with the lost owl.”

A year had passed and the squad room had returned to normal. Six foot six inch tall Captain Brown came out of his office. His wire-rimmed glasses were pushed up on his salt-and-pepper hair. “A passenger plane crashed on George Hill. The person who called it in said she heard gunshots. Dave was on his way in and is arriving on scene as we speak. You four get over there and try to make sure Dave doesn’t shoot anyone, please.”

Grogan smiled and grabbed his black Mustang’s keys and racing gloves. A terrified Brady and Harvard jumped in the back seat. Matt was stuck being wingman and tightened his seatbelt.

Harvard asked, “Um, you did have airbags installed after what happened last month, right?”

Grogan laughed. “Sorry.” He left a strip of rubber in the police garage on the way out. He steered with his knees as he put on his racing gloves. He pushed his country and western CD in. The guys covered their ears in protest.

Brady complained, “We are scared enough, Grogan. Do we really have to listen to that crap just before we die?” The Mustang was still a mile away from the scene.

Dave’s voice cracked over the radio. “Get your butts down here! I’m taking automatic weapons fire. There are two assholes dressed like ninjas trying to shoot the surviving passengers. I am between them, but I’m running out of ammo.”

Grogan smiled and covered the last mile in less than fifty-five seconds. They slid to a stop and jumped out of the car. It was immediately raked with automatic weapon fire. An irate Grogan stood up and prepared to charge straight at the two men. Matt grabbed him by the leg, laughing loudly.

Grogan shrieked. “Did you see that? Those assholes shot my Jenny.”

Brady laughed. “Hold it there, Grogs. Do you want to make Jenny a widow?”

The two ninjas had a choice of charging four detectives behind a car or a dorky guy who had just yelled, “Guys, I only have three rounds left and I am a lab rat with a 160 IQ.” He stuck his leg out, “Look, I am wearing bellbottoms. And besides, they have rifles.”

Grogan stood up and yelled, “He is lying; we don’t have rifles, only Glocks.” A quick burst raked his car again and he screamed. The two men took off towards Dave. He hit both men with head shots. Grogan ran out and kicked them. “You are lucky that Thong Boy killed you. And that was cheating, Dave; telling them we had rifles.”

Dave laughed, “I think the paisley shirt did it for me.” He looked pissed. “Look, I got mud on my bellbottoms.” Grogan walked over and talked to his bullet-riddled car.

Thirty minutes later, Mrs. B. and Victoria drove up. Dave looked over and chuckled, “Brady, your mom’s here.”

Brady blushed and walked over to their car. “Two men killed all the survivors of the crashed jet. They or their friends probably caused the jet to crash in order to kill a specific person. We will be here a few more hours. I’ll buy a lobster grinder on the way home.”

Victoria glanced at all the people behind the yellow police tape. Her owl, Snowflake, flew out the window and hooted. She was joined by a white falcon in a tree. Victoria scanned the crowd again and saw four ladies staring at her intently. The falcon was also staring at her.

Snowflake flew off over the hill and circled. She hooted once. Brady yelled at Matt, who was standing near the top of the hill, to follow the owl. She landed in a tree twenty yards over the hill and looked at the ground.

Matt waved his hand. “There are two people here still alive. Call for help!” The falcon had joined Snowflake in the tree.

The coroner and several men ran over the hill. The two survivors were strapped down and taken to UMass Medical Center. Harvard went with the EMTs.

The four strange women were still looking at Victoria. After the ambulance drove off, the ladies smiled and nodded to Victoria and left, with the white falcon following behind . Victoria and Mrs. B. headed home. Victoria told Mrs. B. about the four women staring at her. When Brady got home, about eight, Victoria told him about the four ladies.

He said the crowds were always videotaped and they would check them out tomorrow at the station. Dave was waiting for them when they arrived the next morning. “Well, I looked through the crowd pictures. Everything looked normal, well, sort of.”

Matt chuckled. “What exactly do you mean by sort of?”

Dave mumbled, “Well, there were four strange-looking chicks that spent more time looking at Brady’s car than at the accident site. They just seemed to be out of place somehow.”

He thought a minute. “It is like someone photoshopped them into the crowd. There also was a white falcon that seemed to be hanging around, for what that’s worth.

Brady chuckled. “That’s funny. Victoria mentioned seeing the four ladies and the falcon last night. She said they were staring at her. Let’s check out the tape.”

They watched the footage. Grogan gasped. “No wonder Dave noticed them. They are certainly good-looking.”

Matt nodded his head. “Yes, they are.” He stared at his laptop screen. “The plane was flying in from Los Angeles to Boston with 180 people on board. A bomb in the baggage hold brought it down. The skill of the pilot got it to the ground in one piece. Apparently, our two dead friends were there to make sure there were no survivors.”

Dave told them that the police guards at the hospital said they had a woman claiming to be the female survivor’s sister trying to visit. They wouldn’t let her in the room and told the woman she was in a coma.

He continued, “The scene looked like the woman was shot and the man picked her up and tried to carry her to safety. He got grazed to the head with a bullet for his efforts.”

Matt said, “The dead men had no ID, of course, and facial recognition is still running. We found a rental car near the scene but the name and address were names of craters on the moon. Their dental work was European and one of the dead guy’s watches was eleven hours off Eastern Standard Time. That is Asia.”

Grogan had checked the Internet. “The woman’s ID indicates she is the only daughter of the owner of the Boston Patriot newspaper and a witness in a murder case. The man is from Hawaii and is an artist of some renown. Huh. He is also a former Navy SEAL. They seem to have no connection to each other. Her father is flying in from Europe where he was on vacation.”

The phone rang. Brady answered. “The hospital says the girl is now conscious.”

Captain Brown looked up from a doughnut and nodded. “You and Brady go have a talk with her...and grab her ‘sister’ if she shows up while you are there. Have the two moved to adjoining rooms on a dead-end corridor. An officer stays in the room and one outside in the hall. All doctors and nurses are only allowed in after verification with facial recognition software.”

Since Brady didn’t have a death wish, he drove them to the hospital in his Beemer. The large, dark gray hospital building was formidable. They ignored all the signs and drove up to the emergency entrance.

A young hotshot valet chased after them. “Hey, you assholes can’t park here.” They flashed their badges at him.

He laughed. “Well, your car has to be moved,” he said with a hand out for the keys. He looked a little enthusiastic.

Brady stared at him. “You do realize I will accidentally shoot you if there is a scratch on my car, right?”

The valet gave him a sarcastic chuckle. “Don’t worry, Grandpa, the hospital has insurance.”

Brady put his hand on his gun and handed the kid the keys. He drove slowly until he hit the corner. They heard squealing wheels and honking horns. Brady gritted his teeth. “Maybe I will shoot him for fun.”

They walked up to the room on the second floor. Brady was greeted warmly by the guard who has won twenty bucks from him on the Patriots v. Jets football game. Brady handed him the twenty on the way into the woman’s room.

The young woman was a knockout blonde with blue eyes that were riveted on Brady. She chuckled with amusement when he blushed.

Grogan laughed and spoke. “Miss White, we are the police and we would like to know what you remember.”

She sipped her ginger ale and thought for a few seconds. “Call me Wendy. Well, I was in Hawaii trying to get an interview from a recluse artist named Wyman Williams. He had a house on the Big Island. He had a reputation of refusing interviews, so I found out where he lived and tried to sneak up on him.”

She sipped on her drink again and stared at Brady. “I got to his estate and knocked on the door and a man answered. He said he was the artist. There are no pictures of him on the Internet, so I took his word for it. It became obvious quickly that he wasn’t Williams and he was just trying to get into my pants.”

She shot a cursory glance back at Brady, who blushed badly. That caused her to chuckle again. “I started to leave but heard someone in back of the building near the beach talking. I looked behind the house. There was a tall man and a white bird. He seemed to be talking to himself. He suddenly snapped his head around and saw me.”

She laughed, “I swear the white bird told him I was there. He shook his head and chuckled slightly. He turned his baseball cap backwards and jumped on a really old-looking green Harley motorcycle. He took off out of the back yard, on one wheel no less. I lost him immediately but played a hunch and went to the airport.”

She smiled. “He didn’t get a good look at me, but I certainly got a good look at him. He was a real hunk.” She glanced at Brady again and chuckled. “The man arrived at the airport and checked his bike into the storage lot. The people there seemed to know him. He grabbed a first-class ticket to San Fran.”

“I got a second-row coach seat. From there, he took a flight to Boston. I was in coach again next to a freaking New York Jets fan. I told him I really didn’t want to have his children. Luckily for me, he passed out after four light beers. Unluckily for me, he snored.”

“We reached the East Coast and there was a loud explosion from the back of the plane. The pilot did a great job getting us to the ground in one piece. The Jets fan pushed everyone out of the way and opened the emergency exit.”

She shook her head. “He managed to get himself out first. Several people behind him were shot, so he grabbed a woman and held her in front of him. I hate freaking Jets fans. The two ninja guys shot him several times. Some of us got out the pilot’s escape chute. I almost got away, but I caught a bullet as I ran up the hill.”

“The guy I was following picked me up and ran over the top of the hill. He got hit with a round and we both went down. I remember them standing over us looking at a picture, but I passed out. I remember a white bird sitting on a rock watching it all. I wondered why the shooting didn’t scare it.” She chuckled, “Now that I think about it, it looked like the bird from Hawaii, but that’s not possible, right?”

Four nurses were assigned to the rooms. There would be twenty-four hour coverage. They were scheduled for twelve-hour shifts. They were major babes. Their credentials were impeccable. Brady requested a deep check to be done.

Brady asked, “Do they look familiar to you?”

Grogan nodded, “Yeah, a little, maybe I slept with them.”

Brady chuckled, “I was thinking maybe you met them during your penile extension surgery.” One of the passing nurses heard him and looked down at Grogan’s crotch.

He blushed and shook his head. “No. I remember now. It was during my second penile reduction surgery last year. I think we should have a chat with these nurses. The doctor said they were new.”

Brady got home around six and found Mrs. B. and Victoria cooking supper in the backyard. They were entertaining two guests. Mrs. B. smiled and said, “This is Marissa and Clarissa; they are two of the special nurses at the hospital. Apparently, Snowflake and Victoria invited them for a cookout.”

Victoria laughed and looked a little guilty. “I am afraid they are two of the visitors from Snowflake’s turf.” Brady glanced over at his wife, who was smiling broadly.

He chuckled. “Victoria, Daddy could use a couple burgers and beerskis. I need lots of beerskis.” He took a bite of his cheeseburger covered with cooked pepper and a long swig of beer. He smiled. “Okay. I am ready now; let’s hear it.”

Marissa laughed loudly and began. “We are indeed from Snowflake’s dimension. There, beings do not have emotions or feelings. Occasionally, we get to go to other places to help with problems and experience the different feelings.”

“Your dimension is full of egomaniacs, which makes you the MIT of the universe. It is also the laughingstock, I am afraid. Victoria’s grandfather sent us here to learn and help you with your soon-to-be problem.

Mr. Wonderful said it is a keystone event in human history. He kept laughing while he was explaining what would occur. I gather there might be a zany event or two before the conclusion is met. He sent Frosty the falcon to keep us out of trouble.”

Clarissa laughed. “That’s like making Hitler the head of the United Nations. Mr. Wonderful said the bad guys were particularly nasty and we should make them suffer.”

Brady nodded and sighed. “I gather all kinds of weird things will happen, like last year?” He glanced at a smirking Victoria. “Those things really did happen last year?”

A guilty-looking Victoria smiled. “I am afraid so, pops.”

Brady chugged a whole beer. “Well ladies, we don’t know what is going on yet, but a woman lying about being Wendy’s sister tried to get into her room for some ‘alone time’, probably to kill her. She will make another attempt because she thinks she is safe.”

Snowflake flew down to Brady’s shoulder and stared at Melissa. Brady chuckled. “Are these ladies on the level, Snowflake?”

He got one hoot. The owl flew over to the branch where Frosty the white falcon was perched. Larry sat under the branch wagging his tail and barking, trying to entice them to play. Brady chuckled. “So, what is our first move?”

Melissa smiled. “We need to replace out who we are dealing with. We need to take the guards away and let the woman kill Wendy White. But don’t worry, neither one of the survivors will be harmed.”

Brady nodded to a smiling Victoria. She ran in to get him another beer. “Fine, we will pull the police detail off them for a while.”

Marissa looked surprised. “I figured you would argue with me.”

Mrs. B. laughed, “No, we have seen your beings in action before.”

Clarissa, the blonde, spoke to them. “Our sisters will drop by when they get off their shift. We have to replace a place to stay while we are here.”

Victoria laughed. “You can stay here; we have lots of room.” Clarissa looked over at Mrs. B.

She chuckled, “We insist.” Brady gave her a surprised look. “Well you have to admit, it has been a boring winter, sweet cheeks.” The smiling ladies left for the hospital after seeing their rooms.

Victoria chuckled, “The four ‘ladies’ were picked by my grandfather. He tends to pick far-out ones with a sick sense of humor.”

She bit into an ear of corn. “Luckily for us, most of the bad guys are psychopaths. That makes them predictable since emotion is not a factor in their decision making. Frosty and Grandfather are floating around in case, I mean, when things get out of hand. Snowflake is really stoked for this.” She got an enthusiastic hoot from the owl. Brady laughed.

Brady stared at her. “I wish you had said if things got out of hand.”

He looked over at his wife, who was laughing. “I suppose we will have half the freaking police force over here in a couple days when they get a load of the nurses.” He glanced over at the owl that was bopping up and down on the branch and chuckled.

The next morning, the police were pulled off the doors at the hospital. A half-hour later, the “sister” showed up and wanted some alone time with her dear sibling. Larissa left her alone long enough to complete the murder of Wendy. Narissa followed her back to a casino. She thought she had gotten away clean. She walked straight to the casino manager’s office.

Narissa went back to the Bradys’ home for supper and to fill them in about the assassin. She spoke between bites of steak. “The woman is sure she killed Wendy. She remained in the manager’s office for twenty minutes. She came out with a small satchel and a big smile on her face.

Narissa noticed Dave staring at her with a stupid smile on his face. She pushed her brown hair out of her eyes. She looked confused. “What’s with him?”

Victoria giggled at her. “Dave thinks he is in love.”

Narissa chuckled. “Well...We will have to fix that.” Victoria watched her walk by Dave. His face filled with shock as she got closer and closer.

Victoria sashayed up to Dave a couple minutes later. “She is kind of cute, huh Dave?”

He cringed. “Yeah, if she is a freaking hundred yards away and there is a solar eclipse. She is not so hot up close.” Harvard called a friend at the FBI to see if they knew anything about the casino. He got back from lunch and was surprised to see four large boxes on his desk.

Brady glanced inside one of them. “This stuff is all from the FBI? I thought they never shared.”

A voice behind him chuckled, “Maybe the FBI knows they are dirty but are too dimwitted to catch them.”

Harvard turned and laughed. “Barry! How is it going?”

Barry shook hands. “It could go a lot better. We might need your help with the casino. We believe they were involved with the Senator Prescott assassination.”

Barry continued, “The girl, Wendy White, is the only living witness to the murder. She is the last thread we have that might implicate the casino. Her name was withheld from the press but obviously someone found out. We are hoping you can help us nail the bastards.”

Harvard looked at all the boxes. “Yes, it looks like fun.”

Wendy White was released from the hospital the next morning and brought over to the Bradys’ home to stay under protective custody. Soon after, the artist Wyman Williams woke up with a splitting headache. He wasn’t going to be released until they subsided.

The police were surprised that his picture was not on his website. He had a baby picture with a German shepherd puppy. They got a copy of his driver’s license and photo. His military record was impressive. He had a Silver Star and retired as a major.

Harvard and Matt were meeting with Harvard’s pal Barry at the Red Lobster. Harvard laughed, “Thanks for coming, Barry. We are going to tell you a little story.”

Barry chuckled, “Wow, I get lunch and a story, yippee!” Matt told a curious Barry about the four women and the fiasco that had occurred over the past year with Victoria and her grandfather year ending with the triplane assassination. Barry humored them. “The lobster was great, but you can’t really expect me to believe that fairytale.”

Matt laughed. “No, we figured you wouldn’t believe us. We got the little girl, who was highly insulted that her word would be challenged, to pick all ten races at the race track for tomorrow. She even threw in the trifecta. You will win every bet. We will be here tomorrow at six to let you buy us supper with your winnings.” Barry laughed, “You guys are serious?”

Harvard smiled. “We are dead serious.”

The next night, Matt and Harvard watched Barry and another man come walking in. Harvard looked up from his drink with a surprised look. “You aren’t alone, Barry.”

Barry chuckled. “This is my division head, Mr. Davis. He bailed me out of jail after the track stewards had me arrested.” Mr. Davis was six three, 190 pounds and looked like a banker on steroids.

The two detectives stood and shook his hand. “Call me Bob.” Harvard laughed, “You should have called us, Barry.”

He chuckled. “We need someone high on the food chain if the impressive track event is any indication of things to come. Bob is an MIT graduate, class of 1980.”

Harvard shook his head. “Great, we have another geek on the team.”

Bob chuckled. “I answer only to the director of the FBI. I am to isolate all your activities from the outside world. That will be difficult to do. The CIA is full of nosy bastards. The director would like everything videotaped for his personal enjoyment. We decided to give the fifteen thousand dollars to the MIT scholarship fund.” He got a high-five from Matt.

Harvard shook his head. “From now on, Harvard gets twenty percent.”

Matt smirked. “Wendy and the man were brought to UMass Medical. We followed the woman that killed Wendy to the casino. She got paid off by the manager of the casino.”

Barry’s eyebrows rose. “You let her try to kill Wendy White?”

Matt smiled slyly. “Yes. We had to let her kill Wendy or else she wouldn’t have led us to the casino manager.”

Bob looked shocked. “You’re telling me you let the woman kill the only witness to Senator Prescott’s murder?”

Harvard chuckled. “Yes we did. But we didn’t say she would stay dead. She is fine. Welcome to the Twilight Zone, my friends.”

Matt continued, “Our pals can do almost anything, but some things they are not allowed to change. The four women come from a dimension where zaniness is the norm. They will help us with the bad guys, but they want to have some fun with them along the way. As for Wendy, she is staying at Detective Brady’s home.”

Bob spoke, “The director wants us to have ringside seats and record everything that occurs.”

Harvard sighed, “That is fine, but let me warn you; don’t get any bright ideas that you can capture or control these entities. Trust me, you cannot.”

The two FBI guys stared at the detectives then shrugged. Barry chuckled, “Okay, we can’t stand it. What do you have in mind?”

The next day, Marissa walked into the casino wearing an “I am an idiot’ little red dress. She had two FBI agents following her to record every moment. They two men didn’t know what would happen and were told “no interference,” even if they thought it was a life or death situation.

Barry and Bob didn’t know what to expect but couldn’t wait to see what happened. It was a typical casino. It had no clocks and pumped in oxygen. They had exaggerated bells and whistles for all the small winners on the slots.

Marissa bought ten one hundred dollar chips and headed to the craps table. She kept making outrageously stupid bets but was consistently winning. She started to gather a crowd. Half were watching the stupid bets and the other half waited to see how high her little red dress would ride.

A loud fat guy with a crummy ten carat gold chain and a New York Jets jersey held the table for an hour. He won two thousand dollars while Marissa walked away with a cool hundred thousand. The table men looked at her and shook their heads in disbelief. The two FBI guys tried miserably not to laugh.

She upgraded her chips and headed to the blackjack table with her two shadows a safe distance behind. She won ten hands in a row and got up to half a million in a heartbeat. She started getting a lot of attention from house players and security.

The pit boss laughed, “She isn’t cheating. She is too stupid to even play basic strategy. She is just having a lucky streak. She will go down in flames anytime now. She is just a dumb broad.” Fifteen minutes later, she was up to two million dollars.

The casino closed the table on her to lusty booing from the peanut gallery. She laughed at them. “Fine, I’ll play roulette then, unless you’re afraid of a ditzy broad kicking your butt.” She laughed at them. That pissed off management.

The floor manager smiled at her. “Let her play.”

Marissa yawned, “Jeopardy comes on in half an hour; I’ll bet it all on one roll.” The floor man turned white and phoned the casino manager himself.

He strolled downstairs. “We will put you on the one-zero wheel for the roll.”

She laughed. “I like the table I am at.”

He said, “Your odds are better on the other table.”

She got angry. “Give me a break. That one is obviously a crooked wheel.”

He lied, “We are making a commercial and we want to include the huge wager in it.”

She smiled at him. “Sure you are. Okay, it is your funeral.” They upgraded her chips to one gold two million dollar chip. She placed the bet on fifteen. The wheel was spun and the ball released. It landed on fifteen for a whole revolution and then flew off the table.

The table man yelled. “No spin.”

The crowd went crazy. They screamed, “That ball landed on fifteen. You are a bunch of crooks.” The manager knew the video was a live feed. He had to be careful. The eye in the sky couldn’t believe what happened. The ball always landed on zero when the foot pedal was hit.

The manager walked over. “It is an old table, but it was our fault. We will tape off four numbers for you.”

Marissa snickered. “It will do you no good. There is a live feed. If the ball flies off the table again, I win.”

The manager swallowed loudly. “We agree. What is your number?”

She said, “I’ll call it when you drop the ball.”

The manager tried to look cocky. “Okay, let’s get this over with, sweetheart.”

The ball was dropped and Marissa called her number, “I call zero.” She looked at the man with his toe in the air. “Well, aren’t you going to push the button? Here I will help you. She pushed his foot down. The ball landed in the zero slot and the place went crazy.

The manager pulled the carpet back. “Look, the floor man is in on it. He spun the wheel and confidently stepped on the button and the ball landed in the five. He tried it ten times and got ten different numbers, but no zero.

Marissa laughed at him. “I believe you owe me...oh hell, I will settle for fifty million.” The woman was escorted up to the manager’s office. A huge goon stood on each side of her. Each was gently holding an arm.

He came in the office. “I’ll give you two million and you can walk out of here alive.”

Marissa was looking around the room. “Let’s see: black walnut and lots of gold, a crappy five thousand suit. It screams ‘I am important but I have a small wiener.’” The two men holding her arms tried not to laugh.

She smiled, “The video had a live feed to the TV station. I want my money now. But, since you are going to be an asshole about it, I want the full amount.”

He looked her over from the top to the bottom. “That was very funny. You are under the assumption that the TV station has a copy of the video; they don’t. It was erased by our man that works there. Now, you’re a fairly attractive broad and you have a decent rack, so I’ll make the last-time offer of three million or death, your choice.”

Marissa smiled, “That wasn’t the only feed. Do you idiots really think I would come to your office, where people are known to disappear, without backup?”

The manager chuckled, “Actually, yes, I do. Take her for a boat ride. Oh, and check her boobs; I am curious to if see they are implants.”

The two men in gray suits escorted her out the back entrance by way of a secret staircase. She was the only one to come out the bottom door. The FBI was relieved to see her stroll back in the front door and back up to the office. The manager looked up and was shocked to see her.

He pushed a button under his desk. Two large men stepped in and were startled to see Marissa. One man grabbed her arm. He looked at the other man who started unrolling plastic sheeting on the floor. The manager asked, “Where are my two men?”

Marissa chuckled, “They mentioned something about Allah and virgins.” The manager, Donahue, took out a gun and screwed on a silencer. She laughed. “That better be some kind of Arabian sex toy in your hand.”

He smiled grimly. “It is my gun and I am going to shoot you with it. I have to say I am going to enjoy it immensely. He put the gun to the side of her head and pulled the trigger. It just clicked and he was alarmed that she didn’t even blink. The gun hadn’t fired.

He tried again and only got a click. She said, “Here let me show you how it works.” She grabbed the gun and shot both the men and stuck the gun in Donahue’s mouth. Sheer terror crossed his face. He screamed that he would repay her. “Spend the money quickly, bitch, because you’re dead.”

She shook her head. “You really need to work on your people skills, Abdul.” She casually shot a hole in his ear. She moved the gun lower to his groin. “The next words out of your mouth had better be to get your financial advisor up here.”

Ten minutes later, she had sixty-eight million dollars in her account. She transferred fifty million dollars to MIT and ten million to Harvard scholarship funds. Donahue walked outside and was shocked to see two FBI agents that someone apparently called to arrest the young woman.

She kept eight million in her account to keep Donahue on the hook. Barry and Bob drove her back to the Bradys’ place for burgers and beer. Clarissa was talking to Victoria when Marissa strode in with her shadows.

Bob was laughing, “Langley is all abuzz about how some airhead woman won sixty million dollars from the casino and managed to walk out the door. There is a lot of nasty chirping from Germany to get the money back or else. All the FBI restrooms had copies of the transcript taped to the walls. Everybody is trying to learn how to swear in Arabic.”

Wendy White showed up at the cookout with her father. Narissa had replaced Wendy out in public. She appeared on a CNN news special and talked about the plane crash. It was being watched at the Bradys’ cookout.

Wendy laughed. “Boy, she looks exactly like me. I hope she won’t be hurt.” She was surprised to hear a lot of chuckles. The broadcast ended with “Wendy” saying she was going on her nightly runs at seven and ten o’clock. It helped her sleep better. The camera panned away with her jogging off on her nightly run. Her blonde ponytail flopping around was mesmerizing.

Donahue had watched the interview from the bar. “Get that Helen bitch back in here and tell her to bring the fifty thousand with her. If she brings the money just take her out, Dave. I should have known better than to use a dumb broad. This woman’s lib stuff is a load of crap. Call in the Russian and get me two Advil.” He felt the bandage on his ear and flinched.

The next day, Helen was found floating in the Nashua by the Boy Scouts, who were doing their yearly river cleanup of used Trojan wrappers. They gathered four thirty gallon garbage bags full which was the tenth most all-time.

The real Wendy White was having a burger at Brady’s house with her father. She was a light blonde-haired knockout with a great tan. Brady told the father that Wendy would be staying with them until further notice. He expressed concern for Narissa. Brady assured him that she would not be harmed in any way.

The nurses were big hits with the department’s single officers. They kept dropping in for a burger or two. Dave was still a little gun shy from his nasty encounter with Narissa the other night. Bob and Barry said the director couldn’t stop laughing at the video and was over the moon with their progress.

The Russian sat at the casino bar with Donahue drinking vodka. They sat quietly and watched the interview. Ivan gasped. “You don’t want me to kill her?”

Donahue grimaced. “Yes, that little psychopath. The idiot cops gave us her address and the exact time she goes jogging. Hell, it is even at dusk so you will be hard to see.”

Ivan sighed, “I will do it tonight, personally. It will be on the eleven o’clock news.”

Narissa came out of Wendy’s apartment promptly at ten o’clock for her second run. She wore aqua shorts with a halter top. Her ponytail bow was also aqua. There were no people outside because of the light rain. Her hair bounced with every step. The Russian watched her from across the road. She seemed totally oblivious to what danger she was in. The Russian sighed, “What a waste of a great piece of ass.” He screwed on his silencer.

He followed her with his gun and gently squeezed the trigger. He got a bling instead of the customary thud. She had passed a street lamp just as he pulled the trigger. She passed the light post but heard nothing because she was wearing earphones.

He whispered, “Well, that’s a first. You got to be shitting me. Well, sweetheart, there is no street light to save you now. He pulled the trigger but she had bent over to tie her shoe. The round exploded the picture window in the bank behind her. It set off a screeching alarm. A startled “Wendy” turned her head towards the sound.

Ivan stood up. “Shit.” Wendy shrugged and put her earphones on and kept on jogging. He figured he had time for one more try. He fired two quick rounds. They didn’t get to Narissa. They did get to a police car racing to the doughnut shop for the night owl half-price sale.

One of the bullets hit Sergeant Wong in the arm so forcefully that he dropped his Boston cream doughnut. The Russian screamed, “I don’t believe this!” He went down in a hail of bullets from the police cars in the doughnut shop drive-through lane. His last words were, “That’s a first.”

Narissa was nabbed by the arriving TV news crew for the eleven o’clock news feed. Donahue sat at the bar and smiled when he saw the “Special Report” banner float across the screen.

“This is Dan Edwards, reporting from the Englewood National Bank. Tonight, a well-known Russian hit man attempted to break into it at ten this evening. The Russian shot out the bank window and wounded one of the responding police officers in the arm.”

Dan continued, “In a firefight with eight police cars in the doughnut drive up window that lasted ten minutes, the man was finally killed while crawling towards the bank’s broken window. A passing jogger, Wendy White, witnessed the event.” Dan stuck the microphone in her face.

She screamed, “You sick pervert!” She broke his nose with a punch.

Dan shrieked, “It is just a microphone, lady.”

“Wendy” started talking fast and acting her part. “Oh...Okay. Like, I was like jogging and like tying my shoe when I heard this idiot shoot out the bank window. I mean this guy was no rocket scientist. Who robs a bank that is right across the road from a freaking doughnut shop?”

The camera man panned her from head to foot and stopped on her butt. The last picture was of her angry face and a fist going by the lens to his nose. She then kneed him in the cookies. Dan signed off as the camera man’s voice squeaked, “I think that little bitch broke my nose.”

Donahue sat staring at the TV screen. “You have to be shitting me. I should have got the damn Italians.”

A call came in from the bank president. “Are you out of your mind? Do you want the Feds to replace out we are laundering your money? Keep away from our bank, you idiot.” The bank president looked out the broken window at all the news people on his manicured lawn and shook his head.

The FBI agents had recorded the whole event and it was played at the next Brady cookout to loud cheers and laughing. Barry chuckled, “Wow. Did you see how pissed that cop in the car got when the shot to his arm made him drop his doughnut.”

Dave laughed, “I never saw a shootout with five cops still holding their doughnuts.” Wendy couldn’t believe “she” kneed the camera man in the cookies on national TV.

The casino manager got another nasty call from the terrorists in Germany. “You lose our money and now you expose the bank that launders our money? Take care of the girl, get our money, and stay away from our bank, or else. You have one week or our French friend will pay you a visit.”

A nervous Donahue called up Big Sammy. “I need a team to take out Wendy White. It must be quick. I’ll give you fifty big ones.”

Big Sammy smiled. He liked big ones. “You want me to take out the hot broad on TV? My, my, that is a lot of money, but she’s quite a woman. You will get my best men. One is a world-class marathon runner and the other a short track driving champion. We will take her out tomorrow during her jog with a hit and run accident.”

Sammy sipped his scotch. “Our runner will jog with White and get her in position to be run down by a stolen car.”

The next evening, Wendy came out in little pink jogging shorts. She wore those little pink socks with a puff ball on the back and, of course, a matching pink halter top.

The two FBI agents couldn’t wait to see what would happen. Barry giggled. Bob looked at him and laughed. “FBI guys don’t giggle, Barry.”

Narissa did her warm up bending. She was being watched by two men in a Caddie.

Barry got excited. “Look. That is Angelo Giantino, the Olympic silver medalist in the marathon. They must be waiting for our girl to start jogging. He will probably run with her to cause a distraction so she can be run down.”

The two assassins gave her a twenty-five yard head start. Angelo chuckled. “It’s show time.” He jumped out of the car and started jogging to catch her. He fully expected to catch her in a hundred yards. He was to be sorely disappointed.

He sprinted and she was still increasing the distance between them with her slow loping strides. His driver started laughing at him. Finally Angelo stopped and put his hands on his knees and began breathing heavily.

He argued with the laughing driver and gestured at Narissa as she completed the half-mile straight away and headed towards the park jogging route. The laughing driver tossed Angelo a towel. He threw it back at the driver. They decided to wait for her on the exit of the five-mile route. Angelo knew there were no shortcuts. He looked at his watch and figured out how long it would take her to complete the route.

He took off his sneakers and started reading the paper. She reappeared five minutes before he expected. He tried to get his shoes on but couldn’t. He ended up chasing after her with his half-on socks waving in the wind.

The driver was fifty yards behind, laughing loudly at him. She stopped abruptly to tie her shoe. Angelo bumped into her and fell hard onto the ground. Narissa yanked him to his feet with tremendous force.

The driver was almost in tears from laughing. Angelo started jogging with her and he started nudging her towards a building. The Caddie started to gain speed. Angelo stepped into a humongous pile of dog poop and lost his balance.

He fell against Narissa, knocking her out of the way. The Caddie plowed through the newly installed picture window of the Englewood National Bank and exploded in flames. The alarm in the bank sounded. Angelo tried to open the door of the burning car to save his cohort, but it wouldn’t budge.

Narissa pushed him out of the way and yanked the door open, bending the frame. A shocked Angelo watched her. Narissa struggled to undo the seat belt. Angelo looked around and saw no one. He took out a knife to stab her. She surprised him by turning around quickly.

She yelled, “Oh thanks. I can’t undo the seat belt.” She grabbed the knife out of a surprised Angelo’s hand. She cut the belt and tossed the knife back to him. He laughed and raised the blade over his head and was cut down by three officers covered in powdered doughnut sugar.

It turned out the driver had a broken neck. The FBI guys were laughing so hard they had tears running down their cheeks. Barry said, “It is a good thing we have auto stabilization Bob. I would love to be a fly on the wall when Donahue sees the news.”

Dan Edwards’ face came on the TV. Donahue smiled and touched glasses with Big Sammy, who was sitting at the bar with him.

“This is Dan Edwards down at the Englewood National Bank again, where two Italian hit men tried to break into the bank. The camera panned back and showed Narissa standing next to him.

Dan nervously glanced at “Wendy”. “In an ironic twist, Wendy White was jogging by the bank and witnessed a Caddie try to ram through the bank’s window. She went in to get the driver out of the burning car and his partner tried to stab her but the three policemen who were at the doughnut shop drive-through window shot him. Here is Wendy to tell us what happened.” He meekly handed her the mike.

She smiled. “Hi mom! Hi dad! Well, I was jogging and some little Italian pervert tried to pick me up. I jogged away from him into the park where there is a five-mile jogging path. The perv was really out of shape and I easily lost him. When I came back out, he was still waiting for me because I’m so hot. I was getting pretty angry and getting ready to deck him. A nice man in a Caddie tried to run him down for me but lost control of his car and ran into the bank window.”

She waved at the camera. “I went in to help him and as I tried to help the nice man out of the car; the Italian pervert couldn’t take no for an answer and tried to cut my halter top off with a knife. The nice policemen left their spots in the doughnut drive-through line and shot him. That halter top cost me four hundred dollars.”

Dan stared at her. “They were breaking into the bank, Wendy.”

She pouted. “Well, why would two different crooks try to break into the same bank? They must know it is next to a doughnut shop that would be crawling with police. Did this bank steal their laundered money or something?”

Dan stared at her again. “That almost makes sense. Maybe a blind squirrel occasionally really does replace a nut.” He smiled right before she kneed him in the cookies.

Donahue and Big Sammy looked at each other. Donahue barked, “Those were your two best guys?”

Big Sammy sighed, “I still have ten hours left. I’ll get the damn Colombians.” He punched in their number. “Boy, I really hate these guys… Hey Hector, I want you to take some of your men and kill a woman for me.”

He listened. “Yeah, kill the hot one on TV with the little pink shorts. I’ll give you twenty-five K.” He listened some more and made a face. “But think of all the free publicity you will get.” Sammy sighed, “Okay, forty. What? Yeah, that was Angelo. It is on what? You’re shitting me. The whole thing is on YouTube?” They watched the YouTube video.

Big Sammy started laughing. “Someone was there waiting for the event to happen. Look, they even put in a fake ad showing you shooting someone and your private phone number. Boy that really looks like you, Donahue. Wow, look, a million hits in only one hour.”

Narissa was watching Maverick on the Western Channel while she got ready for her jog. Frosty the falcon landed on the bedpost and squealed, bouncing up and down. She laughed. “They’re back? They’re trying to kill me again? Boy, these guys are idiots. They must love being on the news.”

She heard someone trying to pick her apartment door lock and so she burst through the door, knocking a surprised Colombian flat on his butt. She tried not to laugh. “Oops, I’m sorry, Pedro.” She jogged quickly up the road.

The guy on the ground looked pissed. “Pedro? Really Chiquita? Pedro?”

A car full of Colombians followed her. The driver chuckled, “Caramba, that chick is fast. She is doing forty.”

Hector snorted, “Nobody can do forty.” She turned a corner and disappeared. The door on a building swung shut. The car stopped and all the men jumped out, smashed in the door and ran into the building. A shrill alarm went off.

The men started shooting at the speaker. Two police cars sat in the doughnut store parking lot. The officers were inside getting a dozen doughnuts each.

The police sergeant looked out the window. “You got to be shitting me. How much longer till our doughnuts are ready to go Brenda?”

She yelled, “About one minute, I have to roll them in powdered sugar and box them.”

One looked at his watch. “Yeah, we will wait for them. Shootouts take time.” He shook his head. “Um, you’re out of napkins, Brenda.”

The police got a 911 call from Wendy White. The dispatcher called the men in the shop. “...and she says she is hiding behind the bank getting shot at by a bunch of Mexicans, over.”

The sergeant sighed, “Yeah, we’ll take it, over.” To the donut shop owner, he yelled, “Just throw them in a bag, Brenda, but roll them in sugar.” The other officers nodded.

Dan Edwards got the call at home. “What? Are you pulling my dong? I’m on my way. Shit!” He arrived as a firefight was going on.

A cop at the back kept moving up and shooting. He got to the most forward officer. “Here is your hazelnut coffee, Sarge.” The police were enraged that the break-in occurred during the half-price doughnut sale and took it out on the poor Colombians.

“This is Dan Edwards; the Twilight Zone is alive and well. For the second time in twenty-four hours and the third time in two days, someone has tried to rob the Englewood National Bank. Tonight’s guests were the notorious Zilla Cartel, armed with automatic weapons. We have our designated witness, Miss Wendy White.”

He grabbed her butt, a big mistake. “Watch where you’re grabbing, you little pervert.” She sprayed him with mace.

He mumbled, “No wonder you can’t get dates.” She sprayed him again. The camera man asked her to take the mic.

“Wendy”, playing the part of the blonde airhead spoke: “Okay, I started my run and these five guys tried to pick me up to party with them. I blew them off but they thought I was way too hot to pass up. They chased me and I ran behind a building.”

“They thought I went inside and broke through the door. They found I wasn’t inside and got mad and started shooting at each other. I called the police but no one answered. I forgot there was a half-price doughnut sale.”

She adjusted her ponytail. “Luckily, the shop is across from the bank and they heard the shots. The Mexicans were arrested and the whole floor was white. I thought it was broken bags of cocaine. I tasted it and it was powdered sugar from doughnuts.”

She looked down at Dan Edwards. She laughed, “Why are you wearing women’s panties?”

Dan grabbed the mic. He snarled,, “I am not, you fat bitch.”

She went ballistic. “I’m a fat bitch.” She yanked his pajama pants down and stuck the mic in the red panties and snarled, “Interview over!” The chuckling camera man panned to Dan and his pink panties on the ground. Dan gave him a sarcastic smile.

Barry began to wonder if they should take a look at the bank’s books. Donahue sat at the bar, drunk. Big Sammy was asleep with his head on the bar. “Keep the drinks coming, Rick,” Donahue groaned.

The Brady clan laughed at the newscast. Wendy shook her head. “I can’t believe she kneed him twice. I’ll never get a date again.”

Barry laughed, “Narissa said he grabbed her butt three times.”

The casino had to have a lot more money drained to get the big boys over to the states. Larissa would be the next high roller to take them on. Larissa strolled into the casino in a tight green dress that went well with her emerald earrings, necklace, and ring that accented her red hair. The FBI had arrived earlier.

She bought a thousand dollars’ worth of chips and headed for the craps table. A little old lady held the table for half an hour. Larissa won a hundred thousand dollars. A man came over and asked her if she would have a drink with the owner. She looked at him suspiciously.

She chuckled, “I will have a drink at the bar in front of lots of people.”

He stared at her. “Who are you? Nobody lets a bet on boxcars ride three times and wins.”

She smiled, “I am a member of a group that will decide if you live or die. We want the person who killed Senator Prescott. You know: the guy on his way here to kill you in five days?” She sipped her rum and Coke.”

An angry Donahue grabbed her and snarled, “Maybe, I’ll just take you out and kill you.”

She laughed out loud. “Then you will be killed in five days. You couldn’t kill my sister and you can’t kill me. Try if you like. We also want your laundry list.”

He chugged his glass of bourbon. Someone dropped a glass and it shattered. He dove behind the bar. She laughed, “How did you become the boss? You’re not only stupid, but a coward.”

Donahue went ballistic. “You’re both dead. Grab the bitch.”

His men took one step and saw a red laser beam in front of their feet. They froze. She threw a thousand dollar chip on the bar and walked over and cashed out. She calmly walked out without turning around. She knew they would follow her. She would give them a show.

She walked into a sex shop ahead of her two tails, who looked at each other in surprise. She bought a multitude of whips, handcuffs, and vibrators. She picked up her pace. She looked like she was walking slowly but her two tails kept losing ground and soon she lost them.

She returned to Brady’s house for lunch. She mailed all the stuff to the casino, along with Donahue’s credit card that paid for one hundred pizzas for the senior center. “I subscribed to fifty porn magazines for him. I made sure there were a vibrator and a porn sticker on the outside,” she told Brady and his friends.

Donahue got desperate. He did a no-no by hiring a hit team from one of his Iranian laundering clients.

He screamed at them, “Just bomb the crap out of her, the apartment, and her freaking car and mailbox. I don’t care if you have to kill the whole damn town.”

Narissa knew what was coming. The FBI intercepted the message he sent to his bosses in Germany. She wore a T-shirt with Osama bin Laden riding a camel naked and smoking a joint. She and her tight violet shorts jogged past a car full of irate Iranians who were trying to open their car doors and waving automatic weapons.

They had no luck with the doors but all their guns all went off by themselves. The doors worked once she got out of sight. An hour later she was back. She tried not to laugh at the car full of holes.

The men sat in the car like statues. They watched her open her mailbox to get her mail but their bomb didn’t go off. They argued and punched the guy who set it. She opened her door and nothing happened there either.

They dialed her phone number and heard loud porn and hung up. Finally they pulled out a remote and hit the button. Donahue’s 1955 Corvette exploded in his parking spot. She laughed, “Damn camel jockeys. You got to love them.”

She showered and took a nap. She woke up for a quick bite to eat and started her jog. A red Beemer followed her down the road. The car opened fire with automatic weapons. She had earphones in and kept jogging. They kept missing.

Finally, a guy got out and tried to shoot a rocket at her. He, unfortunately, held the weapon backwards and hit the doughnut shop. Police shooters started picking them off from the doughnut drive-through lane. Their car swerved off the road into the bank window. Luckily, the sharpshooters finished off the rest of the terrorists before they got to the doughnut pick-up window.

Dan Edwards arrived. There were happy cops everywhere. He saw Narissa and meekly handed her the mic. She chuckled at him. “Some Iranian terrorists tried to rob the bank. One of them shot a missile at the doughnut shop to slow down the police response. It took out the front wall.”

She chuckled, “They turned their attention back to the bank but angry police sharpshooters in the drive-up window were far enough back in line to take them all out. The grateful doughnut shop owner took another two percent off the sale price, hence the jubilant police.”

The next afternoon, some smart ass had painted a ten-foot high bulls-eye on the bank wall. Donahue stared out the window at his still-smoking pile of antique Corvette roadster.

A nervous Abdul spoke. “Sir, we traced our money. She gave most of it to MIT and Harvard. Tomorrow at two, she is donating five million dollars to the animal rescue league down by the Museum of Science.”

Donahue swore, “Over my dead body, she is. Get the crew ready. I want the Mafia’s two best sharpshooters in buildings across the road. I want to be in the front row to see her head explode.”

The FBI expected trouble but were told to just observe and leave the heavy lifting to the ladies: Marissa, Narissa, Larissa, and Clarissa. The FBI was hoping for something bizarre. They would get their wish.

The clock chimed two o’clock. Donahue had placed himself and his two body guards standing in the front row. He had two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of snipers in two buildings a hundred yards away. It would be a piece of cake shot for them.

Donahue made sure Marissa saw him. She chuckled, “You made a mistake. I hope you have good medical coverage, Donahue. While you’re at it, zip up your fly, you pervert.”

His two body guards looked down and laughed. He snarled,, “What are you two looking at?” The presentation started and a few seconds later, Donahue pushed his redial button. He expected Marissa to fall dead from a head wound.

He heard a ping and ducked down to the ground. The people on the stage and around him didn’t react. He looked at his men who also had ducked. Several more pings were heard. The glass on the table shattered and still no one reacted.

He growled, “Well, at least they hit something.” The four people on the stage kept chatting. Someone behind him bumped him forward. There was another loud ping and Donahue screamed and grabbed his left butt cheek.

He got bumped again and before he could turn around, there was another loud ping and he grabbed his other butt cheek. He groaned and was helped out to the Caddie by his body guards. They had swallowed the urge to laugh.

Donahue sputtered, “These are our elite snipers? The Three Blind Mice could have done better.” The event ended with a check presentation.

Donahue was taken to the emergency room. “When I get out of here, I want to see our elite snipers in my office, and put down the plastic to shake them up.” The hospital told Donahue they had to report all gunshot wounds. Clarissa was the emergency room nurse that day. She made sure Donahue had three jalapeño pepper enemas.

Matt and Harvard were there to interview him. Donahue was awake and complaining that ‘his ass was on fire’ with his second-in-command. The police introduced themselves.

Harvard asked the usual questions for a while. “We are almost done, sir. “We noticed you were shot in the rear end. That makes it look sexual. Do you think it is because you are gay?” Donahue yelled, “What the hell kind of a question is that?” Matt continued, “Well we checked your clothing for evidence and noticed you had on pink panties.” Donahue’s assistant, Mike, gave him a shocked look. Matt asked, “Would you call that normal for a straight man?”

Donahue snarled, “I wear only boxers, you asshole.”

Harvard tossed him his sealed clothing bag. “Okay, you show us the boxers and, while you’re at it, can you explain your secret subscriptions to twenty gay porn magazines?”

Donahue held up the panties that had two holes, presumably from the bullets. “Those are not mine. Look, they are too small.” There was a flash in his face. He yelled, “Son of a bitch, there is a damn reporter.” A guy grabbed a recorder off the shelf and ran out. Donahue screamed. “You guys set me up.”

Harvard laughed. “We just walked in the door one minute ago.” His man nodded to Donahue.

He returned to the casino and met with the two nervous snipers. He shook his head. “You two have to be the worst shots in the world. Obviously, you didn’t intentionally shoot me in the ass, or you would have missed. Get the hell out of here before I check my marksmanship on you.”

Donahue looked out the window. “There is something funny going on here. Have our guy get me a copy of the video feed of the event from Channel Four.” Mike nodded and made a call.

The Brady group watched the video and laughed their butts off. Bob chuckled, “The expression on Donahue’s face when he got hit the second time was priceless. The director will love this. Hell, he will probably take it out and play it for the Christmas party. I’d love to see Donahue’s face when he sees who was standing behind him.”

The video arrived at the casino late in the afternoon. Donahue watched it. “I don’t know why no one noticed the gun shots. Look, even a glass gets hit. Here is where I get shot in the butt. What the hell?? That Wendy White bitch pushed me twice.” His bodyguard chuckled, “You were right in front of her boss. Why didn’t you grab her?”

Donahue looked at the two men. “You guys were right beside her, close enough to hold hands.

The guard protested. “There was some fat, smelly broad next to us. Trust me; I would have noticed a babe like that, boss.”

Donahue was bright red with anger. “The video has to be doctored. Okay, that’s it. We take out Wendy White tonight.”

Narissa got ready for her last jog.

Donahue’s driver slammed on the brakes. “Boss, there are unmarked police cars everywhere.”

Donahue scoffed at him. “You can tell that the people sitting in cars are cops?”

He answered defensively, “Well, no. But I do know what a doughnut looks like, boss.”

Donahue looked around. “You’re a driver; just drive, asshole.” Their car cut off Narissa in front of the bank. Donahue jumped out of the car with a Glock. Blue lights came on everywhere.

The driver yelled, “See, I was right, boss.” Johnny, the driver, fired an automatic weapon at the police across the street. He blew out the drive-up window at the doughnut shop.

The police went ballistic and cars came at them from every direction. Narissa hid behind a fire hydrant, eating a doughnut. All the men soon lay dead with at least twenty bullet holes in each of them. The bank books were inspected and the FBI shut it down. The director would be sending all the detectives genuine FBI coffee mugs.

There was a huge cookout at Brady’s home. Snowflake the owl and Frosty the falcon ate steak tips from a plate they “shared” with Larry. Victoria was breathing heavily from constantly filling their plate. “Look. Can we tie a cow to the tree or something? Larry is a big pig.”

Bob chuckled, “The casino still had four hundred million dollars in assets. We have to start draining the money away if we want to get to the best cuts of meat. The bad guys will send a troubleshooter to fix the problem. He will be an especially naughty fellow.”

Marissa spoke, “These guys think they are so macho. We ladies will do the heavy lifting. We will drive them over the edge pretty quickly. They think all women are stupid and whenever we win, it will be by dumb luck. Their flaw is they will try to wait us out.”

A new management staff arrived the next day. Donahue’s replacement would not disappoint. He brought several “disposal experts” with him. He had stern words for his men. “Anyone skimming cash from any of the games will be taken for a boat ride.”

The new men were all heavily armed. The ladies were psyched for action. They would start draining money and aggravating the management team as much as possible.

Mrs. B. was allowed to help and the ladies guaranteed that she would by safe. Bob and Barry would videotape everything for the FBI Christmas party. The next morning, the ladies entered the casino in staggered fashion.

They did it in precisely ten-minute intervals, so management would notice when they reviewed their eye in the sky footage. They each brought ten thousand dollars. Marissa told them to bet small. She wanted to see how management would react to a lot of small winners. The new manager stood on the second level, staring down at the action. He drank his coffee black. There was a lot of noise on one of the craps tables. He had his assistant called down. “What’s going on?”

The pit boss said, “Some little old lady threw ten sevens in a row, sir.”

He yawned. “Screw her. Switch out the dice.” A few minutes later, the noise was a lot louder. He got another call.

The assistant laughed, “She has fourteen in a row now.”

The manager said, “Tell the idiot to slip in the craps dice.”

A minute later, he got a call back from the pit boss. “It worked, sir. She threw craps, but some asshole bet ten thousand dollars on craps.”

The manager cringed. “Well, how much did the little old lady win?”

The man gulped, “She won two hundred and eighty bucks, boss.”

The irate manager looked over at his assistant. “We better make sure the boat is fueled up.”

He got another call from the floor manager. “We seem to have an exceptionally large number of small winners.”

The manager sighed. “That’s fine. I am going to relax with Miss Hendrix. If I get a call before two o’clock, that person will go for a one-way boat ride, clear?”

The nervous floor manager laughed. “Clear as a bell, sir.” The phone rang at exactly one minute past two. It was the floor manager. “Mr. Holmes, sir, ah we have a problem.

A relaxed Holmes sighed. “I’ll come down to the floor.” He was shocked to see no people on the floor gambling.

The manager said, “We had to call in a bomb threat to get everyone out of the building.”

Holmes got pissed. “Why the hell did you do that? Are you out of your mind?”

The sweating floor manager said, “I had no choice. Everyone was winning big at every game and I didn’t want to call you for obvious reasons. We are down twenty million for the day.”

Holmes looked stunned. “Something fishy is going on here. Replace all the cards and dice and have the wheels checked. By the way, get me a picture of the guy who bet the ten thousand dollars on craps.”

The manager said, “It was some stupid broad, boss. I will have the eye in the sky make a copy of her picture.”

The ladies went back to Brady’s place for lunch. Mrs. B. won five thousand dollars without any help from the ladies. She got an ovation and made an exaggerated bow.

Marissa chuckled, “They will check the video feed and see “Wendy White” giving them the famous Hawaiian good luck gesture.”

Barry laughed. “That ought to piss off the new manager.”

The head of security brought down the picture. “She is a good-looking woman, boss.”

The manager looked at the picture. Holmes looked up at the security man. “You are the head of security and you don’t know Wendy White?” He looked at his second-in-command and walked away. The security head saw it and turned white.

Holmes looked at the frightened man. “See if she came in with anyone and check for anything out of the ordinary.” He said softly. “Find out who she is staying with. She is not staying in her apartment. This is your last chance, Abdul.”

That afternoon, he reported to Holmes. “The girl came in alone but four other women came in after her, exactly ten minutes apart. One of the women is married to a police detective. I checked and found all of them are staying at a Detective Brady’s home on—get this, boss—Hanging Hill Road. They are having a cookout tonight. They should all be there.”

Holmes smiled. “Excellent. I love cookouts. Tell all the boys we are going to a cookout tonight.” He took out a nine-millimeter. “And you inform them I said to dress appropriately.”

The Brady group were drinking and eating grilled salmon and steak. They were expecting visitors. They had left the idiots enough clues about where they lived. The night’s entertainment arrived at 9:30.

Ten hooded men showed up, heavily armed, and were confronted by a smirking Victoria. “Dudes, the KKK meeting is two streets down from here. I don’t think they will be too thrilled with your little black outfits. Goth is out this year.”

Holmes yelled at her, “Get lost, you little smart ass.” Holmes pointed an automatic weapon in the air and spoke loudly to the group. “We are here for Wendy White and her lady friends.” Everyone started laughing at them.

Holmes looked over at his men. “Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way—your choice.” He pointed his weapon at the crowd who didn’t look particularly scared to him.

He continued. “Okay assholes, how many of you want to do this the easy way? Can you put up your hands?” The chuckling group looked at each other and back at Holmes. No one raised a hand. Holmes looked at his men, who were getting antsy.

He yelled, “Look, we are not screwing around here.” He fired a burst into the air. To his surprise, a large Canadian goose fell out of the sky, dead at his feet. There was loud clapping and head nodding. His men started to get nervous. Holmes chuckled. “Okay, maybe that was pretty funny.”

Narissa walked to the front as Wendy. She laughed. “Don’t kill the assholes, guys. I will handle this.”

Holmes smiled. “That was smart of you not to get your friends killed.”

Narissa laughed. “My friends killed? I meant all of you assholes.” She sipped a beer. “Yet, that is. This will only take a minute. Victoria, throw me on a salmon steak, please.”

Holmes looked angry. “You won’t be eating that, Miss White.”

She snickered. “We will see. Let’s talk by the rose garden over there. Bring your protection with you, tough guy.” All but two of his men went with him.

She gave him a sinister smile. “I notice you’re loaded for bear...that is good. You’re going to need it where you are going.” There was a blue flash and Narissa walked back to the party alone. The two men left there to look around for their friends. Narissa chuckled. “They went on a hunting trip, guys. Leave now or you will join them.” They backed out of the area quickly and left in their two black vans.

Victoria smirked at her. “A fun-filled Jurassic Park outing?”

Narissa laughed. “Yes, and I am afraid it is mating season for the Tyrannosaurus Rex.”

Holmes number-one man looked around slowly. “Where the hell did she go, boss? Where are we?”

Holmes looked around. “How the hell should I know? Abdul, call Frank and tell him were somewhere near Brady’s house. Boy, it got humid all of a sudden.”

One of his men screamed. “Ouch! A bird bit me. Crap, it is a freaking giant mosquito.”

Abdul shook his head, “We must be in a dead spot, boss. We have no bars.”

Holmes looked around. “Okay, go out in that field and stand on the boulders.

Abdul shook his head. “Hey boss, those aren’t boulders. Boss they look like...”

The ladies drained twenty million more out of the casino while it tried to contact Holmes and scramble to get new management in place. The new guys were Muslim fundamentalists. Most had beards and bad hygiene.

The ladies were psyched. These guys could be particularly tasty. The FBI was getting excited too. These guys also had a demeaning attitude towards women.

Marissa chuckled, “It will be easy to piss these clowns off. I think we will stick a fork in them and twist it for a while.” That prognosis made the FBI director smile.

The ladies began their assault on the casino two days later. They had to “introduce themselves” to the new players. They sent in Clarissa with her top-heavy hourglass figure and light blonde hair.

She walked into the casino in a barely street-legal little black dress. She yapped on a cell phone to complete the impression that she was a ditzy airhead. She bought five thousand dollars’ worth of hundred dollar chips. She sat down, sort of, and played the fundamentally worst blackjack the pit boss had ever seen. She quickly increased her chip pile to fifty thousand dollars.

She didn’t split aces and still managed to get twenty-one. The rest of the table left in disgust but watched, fully expecting her to go down in flames. She doubled down with a two and three against the dealer’s ace. He busted. The pit boss called the floor supervisor. “This stupid blonde is killing us. She is the worst player I have ever seen. She’s got to crash and burn pretty soon.”

An hour later, she was still wiping them out. The people watching were now cheering. One guy sat back down at the table and played stupidly and started winning almost every hand. Other people immediately joined the fun. She got up to two million dollars.

The floor manager grimaced, “We spiked her drinks. She is drinking 180 proof vodka straight. She drinks like a fish. She is on her second bottle and keeps complaining about us watering them down.”

She decided blackjack was too easy and wanted to try Texas Hold ’Em. She asked if anyone could help her play, since she didn’t know the rules. A man whispered to her that she was out of her mind. The house would have ringers in the game. Luck would have nothing to do with winning. A woman said she would sit with her, if the casino didn’t mind. The players all worked for the casino. They would pry the last quarter from their dying mother’s hand.

A large crowd of people gathered to watch her get wiped out. Dan Edwards was shocked to see Wendy. He instinctively put his hand in front of his crotch. “What are you doing here?”

Narissa chuckled, “If you must know, I am here to help this woman learn to play poker...you?”

“We are filming a segment of play for a commercial the casino is making. Are you out of your mind? These guys are all pros and work for the casino. Her tuition is going to be pretty steep.”

Wendy laughed. “Well, she wants to play and it is house money.”

Dan whispered to her, “See those two giants by the slots? The casino expects a bloodbath and those two are here to take our video and make sure we aren’t sending out a live feed.”

Wendy smiled. “Well, let us hope she is still lucky.”

Dan grunted. “Trust me; luck will have nothing to do with it.” The two FBI agents were filming from the bar. They couldn’t wait to see what happened.

An excited Bob nudged Barry. “That’s Mark the Mechanic. I thought he was dead. He is the best there is.” Bob giggled. Bob hadn’t giggled in thirty years. Clarissa lost the first hand. They let her win two hands in a row.

Mark micro-smiled at his three friends. He dealt the sucker hand. He gave Wendy two facedown kings. The next player got two facedown aces. The flop was a king, a five and a five. The fourth card—the river—was an eight. The betting was hot and heavy.

The pot got up to a million dollars. Mark was shocked to flip over a six instead of the expected ace. The other player was equally shocked and folded, saying he was bluffing as he stared curiously at Mark. The rest of the session went badly for the men.

Clarissa won ten million and, since there were too many witnesses, they had to pay her. She sent the money to MIT and Harvard before the casino could steal it back. Clarissa gushed, “That was fun. I think I’ll play again tomorrow. Thanks for your help Wendy…?”

Narissa smiled. “Wendy White.”

The FBI played the tape of the casino action. The stares the players gave to Mark the Mechanic were hilarious. They planned their next day’s play over steak and salmon kabobs.

The casino was not happy. The new manager screamed, “How could you let some ditzy blonde take ten million dollars from us? That was the worst playing I have ever seen. We have Mark the Mechanic, the best card handler in the game. She drinks two bottles of 180 proof vodka and is stone sober and to top it all off, she has the woman we are trying to kill, Wendy White, helping her beat us.”

He gave a stare at his assistant. “She is coming back tomorrow and I expect you to take every dollar she has. I plan on celebrating my next birthday.”

“Wendy White” aka Narissa got a call from Dan Edwards. “They are banning me from filming tomorrow so watch your back. The gloves will come off.”

Narissa laughed. “They will let you in. I will make sure. Be there at ten o’clock. Oh, modify your camera for a secret live feed.” An excited Dan Edwards said he would be there with bells on...as would the FBI guys.

The papers covered how an airhead blonde won ten million off them. The floor of the casino was jammed with people. The manager was pleased. Dan Edwards was stopped at the door by security.

Clarissa stood beside him. “I have fifty million in my account. Do you camel jockeys want a shot at it or not? No Dan, no me. I will go to another casino. What? The big bad Arabs are afraid of a dumb blonde? There is today’s headline, Dan. I want to get out alive with my friend, Wendy when we take all your money. You’re a bunch of scared old women.” The manager just stood there. “Fine, we are out of here.”

Holmes whispered to the head of security. He smiled grimly. “Fine, you win.” He whispered to Dan. “No live feed, Danny boy.” Dan’s face turned an ashen white.

Wendy wore a burnt-orange sun dress and black shoes. Clarissa matched exactly. Wendy chuckled. “Good luck, Mr. Holmes, you are going to need it,” she smiled as she slapped his butt.

Holmes, in a dark blue blazer, whispered to security, “At the end, she is mine.”

Clarissa started again with blackjack and her bonehead playing again won her money. A couple players joined her table and shrugged, “Why not?” They kept winning, too. Their hands got sore from all the high-fives.

The dealer wanted to crawl in a hole. The casino kept giving them high-octane drinks, but they had no effect on them. Holmes shook his head. “I told you to spike her drinks.”

The floor man shook his head. “We put enough stuff in them to knock out a herd of elephants.” Clarissa got up ten million dollars in half an hour.

She yawned, “This is much too easy. I want to play poker again.” She tossed the dealer a ten thousand dollar chip. He thanked her and went to the bar to spend it all on whisky.

Clarissa sat facing the camera. The security guard made sure there was not a live feed. He nodded to Holmes. A very nervous Mark sat to her right. There was also a man in a tux watching the play.

The bartender brought everyone’s drinks to the table. Mark liked vodka as did the ladies. Two of the drinks had green straws, all the rest pink. The ladies were given the green straws. Clarissa smirked when she saw them. The first few hands saw some chip swings. During the fourth hand, Mark passed out head-first on the table.

Wendy chuckled to a house player, “Maybe your bartender is colorblind. Well, I guess he won’t be drinking his drink.” She chugged it down. Dan looked at her like she was crazy.

He leaned over and whispered, “They are spiking your drinks and cheating you.”

She smirked at him. “Would you say it is working?”

He looked at her and the pile of chips and chuckled. “Well, no, not at the moment.”

The manager whispered to security, “That tape of Edwards stays here.” He whispered to another man who smiled and left the room. He scared the crap out of Edwards.

Another dealer appeared. Barry started to bounce up and down on his bar seat. “That’s Harry ‘the Hands’ Phillips. We have been trying to extradite him from Cuba for ten years. He is always covered in platinum jewelry and he wears that old lucky top hat, though luck has nothing to do with the play when he deals. This ought to be really funny.”

The first hand had two hundred thousand dollars in the pot. Clarissa was called. “I was bluffing. I only have two sevens.” The man across from her smiled and said, “Sorry Miss, I have three threes.” He put down three cards.

Clarissa looked confused. “Shouldn’t one of the threes be on the board?”

The pit boss in the tux had the flustered man removed and handcuffed. “The little lady wins with two sevens.”

Clarissa looked down at her breasts and chuckled. “Well, I never had them described as little.” That got a lot of laughs.

Dan leaned over again. “You should quit. They are openly cheating you.” She gave him a very sinister chuckle that made him relax slightly. There were a series of losses for Clarissa that made the cheaters confident at the table.

Then the Dragon Killer hand was dealt. Ace, king of spades to the man left of her. Two aces to Clarissa. The flop was jack, ten of spades, and the ace of hearts. The last two board cards were queen of spades and ace of clubs with tons of betting going on. The pot was up to twenty-five million dollars. Clarissa called.

The man put down a royal flush in spades. The crowd groaned. Clarissa put down two aces and looked confused since she also had an ace of spades. The man in the tux called her a cheat and the man won. The crowd yelled and demanded to know how he knew the man didn’t cheat.

Clarissa looked at her card bottoms. They matched. The gentleman didn’t want to show his after he glanced at them. He turned bright red.

Wendy looked at him. “Well? Let’s see yours.” The man in the tux flipped his over. His ace had a red back. The pit boss yelled “no hand” due to irregularities. The crowd went ballistic and had to be forced out of the casino at gunpoint.

The casino refused to pay Clarissa until they reviewed the video which would be never, according to the guard. The laughing guard took Dan’s video as he roughly pushed him and his cameraman out the door. Everyone went to Brady’s house for an afternoon cookout.

Wyman Williams, the artist appeared, having finally been released by the hospital. He would be staying at the Brady home until everything played out. Victoria saw Narissa walking towards Wyman with a sinister smile. She chuckled and elbowed Brady, “Oh, oh.”

Wyman turned and was shocked when, out of the blue, Wendy White grabbed his butt and planted a thirty-second kiss on him. He blushed badly. She smiled at him, patted his butt again, and walked back into the house. “Yowza!” was all he could manage to say.

Victoria stood next to Brady laughing. “This ought to be good.”

Brady looked confused and then it hit him. “That wasn’t Wendy, it was Narissa.” The real Wendy White came out of the house, carrying a potato salad.

Wyman walked over, saying, “Hey there, sweet cheeks.” He planted a long kiss on her wide-eyed face. He patted her on the butt and turned to go get a burger.

She blushed badly and looked completely shocked. She walked quickly up behind him and dumped the salad over his head. She yelled at him, saying, “How does that taste, sweet cheeks?” She stomped back into the house to make another potato salad. Wyman had a “what the hell just happened” look on his face. He was still wearing the salad bowl.

The FBI guys, the four ladies, and Victoria laughed until they cried. The three other ladies knew a funny thing when they saw it. They all became Wendy. They knew she would be busy making the salad. They kept bombarding Wyman from every direction all in different outfits.

He kept being pinched and butt-patted. It was so fast that he knew they weren’t changing clothes. They suddenly disappeared and became themselves. Wendy came out the back door with a new potato salad. She gave Wyman a nasty look as she put the bowl on the picnic table. Wyman looked really jittery to her.

She felt guilty. He did save her life and he was a hunk and she liked the kiss. She walked over with two beers. Wyman backed away as she approached. She chuckled, “Look, I know you saved my life, but grabbing me and kissing me and patting my butt is a bit much for a first meeting, don’t you think?”

Wyman huffed, “Well, pardon me if I misunderstood your kissing me and pinching my butt.” A second Wendy passed behind her and blew him a kiss. He laughed, “I didn’t know you had a twin sister.”

Wendy looked confused. “I don’t have any sisters.”

The light went off in her head. “It was Narissa!” She saw Wyman looking behind her with his jaw dropped.

She turned around and saw four of her. “Whoa! That is spooky.” She filled Wyman in with who they were and what they did to him and what they were trying to do to the casino.

He didn’t look too sure about their story but would go along for the ride. He said, “You need to take the casino to court.”

Marissa laughed. “We will, in good time, but first we want to screw with them a little bit. Wyman presented the Bradys with one of his World War One dogfight paintings for letting him stay at their house. Mrs. B. was fascinated by it, especially the triplane.

Snowflake had been missing several days. They were shocked when she reappeared and landed on Wyman’s shoulder. Wyman looked shocked by the event. He gushed, “Wow that is a real friendly owl you’ve got there.” Mrs. B. and Victoria eyed him suspiciously.

The cookout that night was lively. Wyman told them he was a former SEAL and a retired major. He was also a lawyer. He left the corporate world to pursue his true love, painting. He had a cult following. Mrs. B. was talking to Victoria. “It seems Wendy is enchanted with Wyman.”

Victoria laughed. “I knew that the second she dumped the potato salad on his head. I’ll design some wedding invitations, just in case.”

The next day, Clarissa, Wendy, and Wyman—wearing a five thousand dollar power suit—headed down to the casino. Dan Edwards and his news team went along, hoping for a murder or confrontation. The casino flatly refused to pay off Clarissa.

Dan said he wanted his tape back but they refused. Wyman said he expected that and told them they were being sued for four hundred million dollars in damages and the twenty-five million from the poker win the day before. He presented them with the paperwork.

The manager laughed. “I notice you are suing us for the exact value of the casino and its assets.”

Wyman chuckled, “I did my homework. You should have done your homework before you risked your casino for a paltry twenty-five million dollars. If I was your boss in Germany, I would have you taken out.”

Wyman continued, “I hope you’re still alive for the trial.”

The manager smiled. “Funny, that’s what I was going to say to you.”

The “Hands of God” terrorist group was not happy. The leader screamed, “You got our bank closed and put our casino in jeopardy for nothing. If you lose our casino, you and all your families are dead.”

The manager spoke grimly, “We have it under control.”

The leader said, “Their lawyer has never lost a case. Take him out.”

The manager sighed, “He is as good as dead. We know exactly where he is.”

The FBI was thrilled with how things were going. The terrorist organization was starting to come unhinged. Their voice traffic allowed their location to be pinpointed five clicks inside the Syrian border.

Meanwhile, a hit on Wyman Williams was arranged by the manager. “If that Wendy White bitch is with him, take her out, too.” Wyman and Wendy decided to go for a drive after supper that night. Wyman had a powder blue Audi convertible rental. The full moon that night didn’t break his heart. It seemed a lot larger than usual to Wendy.

On the way back to the Bradys’ place, they were shocked to see Hanging Hill Road blocked by the police. There was a car off the side of the road with its entire top crushed in. There were four heavily armed bodies inside. It looked like a giant three-toed reptilian foot had stepped on top of it.

Wendy snapped a picture with her phone. They were recognized by the police and permitted to drive back to the Bradys’ home. They got back about eleven. They were told about the dead men by Bob.

Wendy nodded. “We did see a red car turn on the road as we were leaving.” Wyman was suspiciously silent on the matter. Victoria gave Wyman a knowing smile and he blushed slightly. She chuckled.

The manager fumed. “I told those idiots to report back immediately after the hit.”

The second-in-command spoke. “I heard a lot of police chatter about a half-hour ago on the scanner, boss.”

The manager nodded. “Call our guy at the police station and see what he has heard.”

Using a fake IP address, a laughing Victoria e-mailed Dave the picture Wendy had taken. Dave was a happy camper; he waited at the station for the crushed car to arrive. He was all over it before they removed the tow hitch.

He told the captain,, “This car was stepped on by a thirty-five foot T-Rex. There is a T-Rex running around on the Brady farm. I called the house to warn them, but they laughed at me and hung up.”

The captain stared at him and shook his head slowly. “We should have hired Abby when we had the chance.” He walked back in his office with the last doughnut.

Harvard laughed at Dave. “I thought I told you to lay off the 5-hour Energy drinks while you’re chugging coffee.”

Captain Brown stuck his head out of his office. “If I see a damn story about a T-Rex in the paper, I’ll shoot you myself, Dave. Keep it simple; it was hit by a meteor.” He stopped in the doorway. “That was a joke, Dave.” Dave sat in his lab, sulking.

The informant called the casino manager. “The police found our car crushed on Brady’s street, Hanging Hill Road. I heard the captain say it looks like it got hit by a meteor or stepped on by a T-Rex. And before you ask, I am stone sober, boss, and having seen the car, I’m going with the T-Rex scenario.”

The next day, a depressed Dave sat poking a beetle with a pencil. Harvard felt sorry for him. He looked in at Dave. “So what is all this about UFO sightings down by Brady’s house last night?”

Dave perked up immediately. “Really? When was it exactly?” Harvard kept a straight face. “Dan Edwards has a video some farmer recorded on his phone down near Brady’s cornfield.”

The captain grunted and shook his head at Harvard. He laughed after Dave rushed back to the lab. “Well, I suppose it is better than the T-Rex story.”