Page 45 of The Bad Weather Friend

“It’s a deal, my main man. Just so now and then we do something fun together. But listen, don’t worry that I’m going to be hanging around all the time, dominating your social calendar. This is your life, and I’m just like an old friend you went to college with or to war with, or maybe we both loved the same girl, she dumped both of us, and we bonded. Does something like that work for you?”

“Yes.”

Spike swung the Explorer onto a long two-lane palm-lined driveway leading to a gated guardhouse, beyond which lay a private community of expensive estates.

“We have a problem,” Benny said. “The only way anyone gets in there is if their names have been left with the gatehouse.”

Spike pulled an Incredible Hulk face, except not green. “Some guard tries to stop me, I’ll tear his head off and shove it up his ass.”

“Uh,” Benny said.

Slapping his companion’s knee, Spike said, “Loosen up, buddy. It’s a joke. Thrown out of college, survived a war, dumped by the love of our life—we need to keep our sense of humor.”

PARTY TIME

The guarded and gated community was called Pelican Crest. Benny thought a guardhouse must be a serious problem when you were engaged in sneaky business. Spike regarded it as a chance for a bit of fun.

He powered down the window and smiled at the young man standing in the open door of the building, one of two personnel currently on duty. “How are you this evening, Ehud?” he asked, reading the name tag on the guard’s jacket.

“I’m well, sir. What can I do for you?”

“Ehud isn’t a name I hear often anymore.”

“If ever,” Ehud agreed.

“Do you carry a double-sided dagger?”

“No need. King Eglon has been dead for many centuries.”

“Marvelous! You know the derivation. Could it have been an ancestor of yours, a long-ago Ehud, who freed the children of Israel from the horrid king of Moab?”

“I doubt it, sir. It’s always been the women in my family who take on the tough jobs.”

“That’s usually the case, but seldom recognized.”

Charmed by this banter, Ehud stepped out of the guardhouse doorway for a closer look at Spike. “Who’re you calling on this evening, sir?”

“The self-important and thoroughly corrupt attorney, Oliver Lambert, is having a party,” Spike said, having learned of the celebration from Handy Duroc. “I’m his brother, Fielding, and I have with me two companions who will be vastly more interesting than the pompous snobs Oliver calls his friends.”

Ehud strove to maintain a sober expression, but he couldn’t repress a smile.

According to Handy, Oliver Lambert was an unlikable man who traveled in the company of other unlikable people, all of whom pretended to love one another until such a time as they could stab one another in the back. The young security guard’s reaction seemed to confirm that assessment.

“One moment, sir,” Ehud said. “I’ll check the guest list for the event.” He returned to the guardhouse.

Benny said, “The party started more than an hour ago. What if Fielding already passed through and was checked off the list?”

“You heard what Mr. Duroc said. Oliver is desperate for his brother’s approval, and his brother takes pleasure in withholding it. Best guess—Fielding was invited and will enjoy not showing up.”

“But what if?”

“You’ve seen cragglethink in action with Ehud, but sometimes we need a little craggleluck.”

“Actually,” Harper said, “that business with Ehud is kind of like something Bob would do.”

“Are you referring to Mr. Fat Robert Jericho?” Spike asked.

“Robert Jericho, Bob, yes.”

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