Chapter Forty-One
A sharp knock on the door roused Owen from the most restful sleep he’d had in months. Alice’s warm, toned butt was nestled against him, and he had one hand draped over her breasts. Life was good. If this is what a harmonically balanced life looked like, he was all in.
Except for the knock on the door.
Another series of imperative raps forced him to open his eyes. He discovered that the first faint light of the desert dawn was illuminating the window.
“The door,” Alice mumbled into the pillow. “Did we order breakfast before we went to bed?”
“No, we did not. I’ll get it.”
He shoved aside the covers, rose, and pulled on the hotel robe. Out of habit, he picked up the flamer and tucked it into his pocket. As far as he could determine, the case was closed, but sometimes loose ends took you by surprise.
He looked through the peephole to check the scene, sighed, and opened the door.
“Good morning, Mr. March.” The head concierge held out Sebastian. “I am, as usual, returning the lucky dust bunny.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ridley.” Owen yawned.
Sebastian chortled a cheerful greeting.
“Sebastian.” Alice appeared. She finished tying the sash of her robe, grabbed Sebastian, and looked anxiously at Ridley. “Is there a problem?”
“The lucky dust bunny has had a busy night,” Ridley said.
“He helped close down the Alien Abduction Experiencers’ open bar sometime around two a.m. and then accompanied several Experiencers to an after-hours party in a private suite.
I believe some freelance entertainers were hired for the occasion. ”
Alice frowned. “What’s a freelance entertainer?”
“Don’t ask,” Owen said.
“Approximately twenty minutes ago I got a call from the kitchens, where early preparations for breakfast are in process,” Ridley continued. “The lucky dust bunny was supervising the pastry chef.”
“Let’s get to the bottom line,” Owen said. “What are the damages?”
“There were some issues with the UFO display in the lobby,” Ridley allowed. “The inflatable flying saucer was punctured and collapsed when some Experiencers attempted to position the lucky dust bunny on top for photographs.”
“I trust no Aliens were harmed,” Owen said.
“I regret to report that the entire crew of the UFO was lost.”
“Put it on my bill,” Owen said.
“Of course.” Ridley took a step back, preparing to leave.
“Wait,” Alice said. She examined what looked like a soup bowl made out of gleaming metallic paper on Sebastian’s head. “What’s this thing he’s wearing?”
“One of the souvenirs they were handing out at the cocktail party,” Ridley said. “I believe it’s called a tinfoil helmet.”