Greg Cox: A Touch of Fever

“Sounds to me like everyone is back to normal.” “Whatever that means around here.” Claudia leafed through the local paper. “Hey, guess what? There’s a circus coming to town.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “We should so check that out!” Pete lobbed a strawberry at her head. “Or not,” she amended. She ducked the fruity missile which flew past her head just as Artie strolled through the door. It splattered at his feet. He heaved a world-weary sigh. “A nursery. I’m running a nursery.” “Sorry, chief,” Claudia said sheepishly. She pointed at Pete. “He started it!” “Snitch!” Pete accused her. “That’s it. I’m not letting you win at Halo anymore.” “Right.” Claudia snorted. “Like you ever had a chance…” Artie held up his hand to forestall any further discussion. “That’s enough, both of you.”

Plopping himself down in an empty chair, he opened his satchel and pulled out a bulging accordion file. “We have work to do.” His gaze alighted on the breakfast spread. “Ooh, croissants!” “Just one,” Leena advised. “Remember your triglycerides.” Myka was intrigued by the file. “What do you have for us, Artie?” “A ping if I ever saw one.”

Artie helped himself to a single croissant. “Seems the dead are rising in New Orleans…” That got everyone’s attention. “Marie Laveau’s voodoo doll?” Claudia guessed. “So it would seem.” Artie handed Pete and Myka a pair of plane tickets. “Your flight is in an hour.” Myka gulped down the last of her coffee. She nodded at Pete. “Flip you for the Tesla.” “You’re on.” He grabbed a croissant for the road. “The Big Easy, here we come.” Myka grinned in anticipation. “The beignets are on me.”