Page 33 of Cash

“You!” a voice shouted. “Hey! You!”

Brick looked past Trixie and Noah to the funeral home, where a heavyset man in a black suit was charging right toward him. He had no earthly idea who the man was, but he seemed angry and, for some reason, very angry with Brick.

“Oh, you little bastard!” the man shouted. “You’re fuckin’ dead!”

Chapter Six

Brick had never seen this man before in his life, but he was certain he was about to bash his head in with a rainbow flamingo. “Hey, hey! You’d best back the fuck up!”

The man stopped in his tracks, snarling, “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry. Allow me to speak more clearly.” Brick raised the flamingo. “The last twenty-four hours of my life have been a tiny bit stressful and I will not hesitate to drive the cute little metal feet of this precious pride flamingo into your skull!”

“Wait!” The man cowered back. “I-I thought you were the florist!”

“But why would you come out screaming like that at a florist? Why would you do that to anyone?” Brick narrowed his eyes. “Who does that? What did the florist do? Drown your puppy?”

The man’s mouth moved but no sound came out, his eyes like saucers as he stared stupidly at Brick.

Trixie put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Ramp?” Noah asked the man in the same sort of voice that one might use for addressing a toddler.

“The casket spray for Mrs. Keaton has three broken roses, that’s what is wrong!” Mr. Ramp snapped with a bite of his earlier venom. He glared at Brick and then eyed Noah and Trixie. “Call the florist back and have him fix it. Now!”

“On it, sir,” Trixie said dutifully.

Mr. Ramp sneered in Brick’s direction, turned around, and marched back inside the funeral home.

“Wow. Who is that asshole?” Brick asked.

“Assistant location manager,” Trixie replied. “Edward Ramp. His panties have been extra tight since the Finch family asked to work with Ziggy and not him.”

“He likes to get all the big money calls,” Noah added, “but Ziggy has been waiting on the Finch family since he was an apprentice back in the seventies. When one of their people dies, they want Ziggy.”

“Damn.” Brick glanced back to his house.

Jules had gone back inside and shut the door, and the delivery person’s car was gone. The allure of Jules’s company plus hot food was too good to wait another second for.

“So, yeah, I’m gonna go.” Brick hugged the flamingo. “Thank you guys again for this. Seriously. Uh, good luck working with that giant dumpster of balls and solving murders and stuff.”

“There is no murder—” Noah protested.

“Thanks, Brick!” Trixie cut him off cheerfully. “Have fun! Go enjoy your big tasty snack!” She winked. “Hope lunch is good too.”

“Later!” Brick grinned and headed back home, pausing to plant the new flamingo at the foot of the oak tree where the big one had stood. He walked inside, nearly bumping into Jules, who was pressed right up to the wall just inside the doorway. “Jesus!”

“Hey.” Jules was looking out the side windows, eyeing the funeral home.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Was watchin’. Saw that big guy givin’ you trouble.” Jules shrugged. “Thought about maybe figuring out which car is his.”

“To do what? Slash his tires?” Brick snorted.

Jules had a funny look on his face, and he replied slowly, “Yeah. That.”

“That’s very thoughtful, but I handled it.” Brick patted Jules’s bicep.

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