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Enjoy!

I’ve never been much for ecumenical conversation — the demands of the Reformed Church of Yakima sit lightly upon its believers — but I managed to grunt out a “good evening” before the hooded figure grabbed my arm and hauled me into the darkness.

“Listen,” I was told in a distinctly male voice. Either the nuns had started equal opportunity recruiting, or Ru Paul was slumming it big time.

“You’d have to be desperate or a fool to go asking about that business around here. Count yourself lucky that Candy was on duty — Lurleen isn’t quite as … compassionate … with strangers who ask the wrong questions. Now if you want to get out of this mess alive, meet me at midnight behind the Gilbert Brown Memorial Bird Feeder downtown.

I opened my mouth, but my companion shut it again with a fierce look from beneath the wimple.

“Don’t ask any questions – let’s just say that there are some people in this world who have good memories and better reasons. All you need to know is that we’re not taking the fall for the hit. Not this time.

“We’re all you’ve got — get too nosy and you’ll regret it.”

There was a rustle in the bushes nearby. My mysterious benefactor seemed to recognise it as a signal. “OK Norman, we’re out of here. Tell Reggie and Chad to meet up at the Feeder at midnight. We may have found us some help.”

“Sure, Hass,” replied the invisible man. My head may have been reeling, but I could still recognise the accent of a Mississippi college man through the fuzz. I turned back to my companion but he ... she? ... had gone, speeding off towards the center of town in a sedan with the lights off. I thought I could see an “I Survived Survivor” bumper sticker on the back, but maybe it was just the concussion talking.

However, I knew I'd be at that feeder on time - no matter what.

The game was most definitely on.