Two actual police officers were standing at the top of the basement stairs, flashlights in hand. One of them was holding the ransom napkin in an evidence bag.
Barn watched Reginald perform a perfect, slow-motion backflip off the plastic arch. “Most people don’t have a shrimp with a better agent than they do.” Tanked
Chet Marlin stepped out from behind a pile of napkin dispensers. He was a small, sweaty man in a too-tight chef’s coat. He was holding a aquarium net like a sword. “I knew you’d come, Barn. Your emotional attachment to a decapod is your greatest weakness!” Two actual police officers were standing at the
“And you’re here, in Tanked, at 9:47 in the morning, because…?” “Most people don’t have a shrimp with a
“And your over-reliance on sysco frozen scallops is yours,” Karma said, stepping into the light.
It wasn’t a lobster tank. It was a ten-gallon terrarium. Inside, looking profoundly unimpressed, was Reginald. He was fine. He was munching on an algae wafer. A tiny velvet rope had been strung around his castle.