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“That was a good question, Dwayne.” Granny patted him on the head like a dog and he preened. “Essie, your mamma and daddy would want you to have a vacation before you get killed finding out what happened to them.”
“Can we go to Jamaica?” Dwayne asked.
“Ohhh, I’ve never been to Jamaica,” Granny volunteered.
They were both batshit crazy, but Jamaica did sound kind of nice…
“Fine, but you’re paying,” I told Dwayne. He was richer than Midas. He’d made outstanding investments in his three hundred years.
“Yayayayayayay!” he squealed.
“I’ll call the travel agent,” Granny said. “How long do you need to get the bad guy?”
“A week. Give me a week.”
