Tony debated going to the club that evening, then decided being with his friends, rather than staying home worrying about the murders, was the better option.
When Tony got there, and approached the table, Greg jumped to his feet to hug Tony.
“How are you holding up?” Greg asked as they sat.
“I’m still alive, which is what counts,” Tony replied, taking the bottle of beer Dan handed him. “You were that sure I’d be here?” he asked him.
“Yep. When trouble strikes, us four Musketeers always gather to deal with it.”
Tony took a drink, chuckling at his friend’s words. “Where are our floppy hats and swords?”
Greg snickered. “I know where my sword is.” He glanced down at his crotch.
“Bad one,” Pat said with a laugh. Then he asked Tony, “How are you doing?”
“I’m pretty shaken up. Like an old
