Bloody Betty, Queen of the Pirates
Russ Crossley
The moment Aloha entered the Caribbean Islands Holiday Theme Park, she wondered if today would be a bad day. Overgrown, tropical undergrowth bordered a small plot of land. Only a collapsed sign at one end of a pothole-filled gravel parking lot marked the wreck as anything other than more Nowhere, Florida.
Aloha pulled the strap of her handbag up onto her shoulder. Gravel is hell on high heels. I should have switched to my sneakers.
The amusement park was hardly the exciting, international destination the Legal Investigative Protection Service’s recruitment brochure had promised. Knots of gnarled Cyprus trees guarded the theme park's perimeter.
Why did Simon have to send me here?
Hard to believe Director Mynass would send her to Sopchop
