Fletch, Too

“Hurry up,” Barbara said. “I want to do something.”

They ran up the stairs at the back of the lobby.

“What?”

On the second floor they walked along a sun-dotted courtyard in which there was a Japanese garden.

“Get these clothes off me.”

“Barbara, there isn’t time. We kept this nice man waiting long enough this morning. He sat there sipping only half a beer while we screwed around.”

“Will you tell Carr about what you saw this morning at the airport?”

“I was thinking of it.” Fletch fitted their key to the lock. “Witch doctor!”

In their room, all their clothes had been put away.

On the bureau was a pair of new sneakers. Next to them was a note.

Dear Mr. Fletcher:

Instantly your sneakers were damaged beyond repair in the wash so we have replaced them.

With apologies,

The Management

Norfolk Hotel

“My holey sneakers! How embarrassing!”

Barbara read the note over his shoulder. “How sweet!” She had a pair of scissors in her hand. “You’re right. How embarrassing.”

“What are you doing?”

“Take ‘em off.”

“Take what off?”

“I can’t stand being in these clothes. I can’t stand seeing you in those clothes. We can’t go around on the equator dressed like this.”

“My wife is attacking me with a scissors! We haven’t been married a week!”

“Take your pants off or I’ll cut them where you stand!”

“Help! Dan Dawes! Save me! There’s a villain in my room!”