Barry was sinking through the layers of an English trifle. He sensed the crunchiness of the toasted almonds, felt the white, pillowy softness of the heavy cream, tasted the tanginess of the fruit, reveled in the springy bounciness of the Jell-O and luxuriated in the fluffy decadence of the sherry-soaked sponge. But something was missing…not right…different…odd. He couldn’t work out what. He slowly emerged to wakefulness, but kept his eyes closed, not wanting to let go of his dream. Heck, he could taste that trifle. But
his feelings of unease soon crowded out those of the tasty dream dessert.
He could feel Jake spooned behind him. But the bed in front was cool and empty. At first Barry thought Jimmy was in the bathroom—hopefully not washing his privates in the bidet yet again. Concentrati
