With Death You Get the Eggrolls
I had just parked my rusting Lotus in front of the Ye Olde Dragon’s Guild Building — my PI office is on the sixth floor of a four-story walk-up (don’t ask, you don’t wanta know) — when my cell phone erupted with the deep south standard, Dixie.
I immediately recognized the number on the glowing call display. Why was Owlen calling me from his cell already?
I flipped my phone open. “Where are you?”
“At the corporate headquarters of Y. O. Fortunate Message…”
I knew them. They made the little messages that went into the fortune cookies.
“We found their Vice-President of Sorcery face down in his Won-ton soup…” As usual Owlen used his best dull-investigator voice.
“Accidental drowning?”
“I dun’ wanta say any more over an open phone line.” The line went dead
