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“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“You make that face. It’s the same face you had when you told me about Clement, and whenever you realize the coffee pot is empty.”
I parked outside the office. “I have an idea that will help us collect the weapons faster.”
“Oh. That’s a weird face to make when you have a helpful idea.”
“I’ll be sure to practice in the mirror next time.” I turned to face her. “You take my golf cart. I’ll fly.”
“What about my golf cart?”
“I’ll pick it up for you later. You should avoid Meemaw’s territory for now.” I vacated the driver’s seat. “Bring any weapons here, log them as evidence, then lock them in the office.”
“Yes, boss.” Penny slid behind the wheel and adjusted the seat. “Your legs are longer,” she said, almost apologetically.
I grabbed the blow-up weapon from the back seat. “One more thing. The next time you have an idea that involves antagonizing one of the most powerful Neighbors on the island, run it by me first.”
“But you told me—”
I booped the end of her nose with the inflatable mallet. “I told you to be a nutcracker, not a nut.” I rested the fake weapon on my shoulder. “I’m taking Mjolnir with me.”
“Why?”
I twirled the handle. “Because everybody needs a bit of whimsy in their life.”
And the gods knew I needed it more than most.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The first name on my half of Clement’s list was Chaz Mecklenberg. His inclusion was the least surprising. Even without access to the werewolf’s file, I would’ve identified Chaz as someone with a military background. Balloon-like muscles. Ramrod straight posture. Severe haircut. On occasion, he’d call the security office and ask if we needed an extra pair of hands. On second thought, the werewolf hadn’t volunteered his services since Judd died. Maybe it was a werewolf thing.
From my vantage point in the sky, the island looked peaceful, a patchwork quilt of basic shapes—circles, squares, half-moons, and rectangles. The simplicity of it took my breath away. From up here, it was hard to imagine all the drama that took place within those shapes.
I swooped lower and landed on the fourth-floor staircase of Chaz’s building in Terrapin, nearly colliding with an elderly sprite carrying a bag of groceries.
“Sorry about that, Lila.”
“No worries,” she chirped. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Stopping by to see Chaz. His key card is acting up,” I lied.
“Isn’t that a maintenance issue?”
“Yes, but you know that department is always backed up.”
Lila grunted her approval. “Do I ever? My dishwasher was broken for three weeks. I had to wash everything by hand.” She wiggled her fingers clasped around her bag. “This skin is too delicate for manual labor.”
“Would you like me to carry the bag to your door?” I offered.
“Don’t be silly, dear. My milkshake wouldn’t bring all the boys to the yard without daily exercise.” She continued up the next flight of stairs at a snail’s pace.
I continued to Chaz’s condo and knocked on the door. He answered a few beats later, shirtless and wearing oversized headphones. His torso was slick with sweat.
“Hi, Maya,” he said, louder than necessary. He pulled off the headphones and left them looped around his neck.
“How did you hear me knock?” I asked.
