Schoolteacher Fiona is on a mission for grandpa - find a missing Zimbabwean artefact, the precious soapstone "Bird of the Gods". Conrad - dodgy archaeologist contracted to the stunning influencer Amanda aka #mandalove - has the same job. When Fiona...
The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap beer assaulted Conrad's nostrils as he followed Fiona into the Zoo Tavern. After a moment his eyes adjusted to the dim light and he eyed the peeling posters of grunge bands on the wall.
Catching up to Fiona had proved quite simple. He'd simply called the rental agency and told them he'd gone sightseeing on foot and couldn't remember where he had parked the car. Using the car's GPS system, the rental agency had given him the address to the Westin Hotel in Seattle.
After showing the stripmall stoners the menu at Uncle Ike's pot shop and offering them more cash than they had seen in awhile, they were more than happy to drive him there.
A bit stoned and much more relaxed about everything, Conrad had simply waited for Fiona to come down to breakfast. She'd looked surprised but didn't try to flee again. After putting on his most charming smile, he had managed to convince Fiona they'd do better together against Amanda than alone.
Fiona wasn't sure why she'd believed Conrad's story, but she knew that after she had cracked the next clue, the thought of facing Amanda alone made her nervous, scared for her life. And as annoying as he was, she had found herself missing his company. Of course that feeling quickly evaporated the next time he opened his mouth.
"This place is a disgusting relic of the '90's," Conrad muttered.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Fiona ignored him and searched the low-brow watering hole for the pilot she'd contacted. Not seeing anyone who could fit the description of a pilot, she saddled up to the bar and ordered a beer.
Conrad wrinkled his nose and watched the bartender pull a pint of draft Rainier beer.
"That can't be good beer," he scoffed.
"Shut up," said Fiona. "And keep your eyes peeled. She took a long gulp of the beer.
"Don't tell me you are actually going to drink that swill!" exclaimed Conrad.
"It's not bad," she offered up her glass to Conrad who flinched backwards as if she had offered him a glass of urine.
"It's all I ever drink," said an old man perched on a bar stool next to Fiona. He looked like the typical barnacle that inhabits dive bars such as the Zoo. His gray beard was stained with cigarette smoke. Greasy locks of unkempt hair stuck out from underneath a filthy bucket hat.
The geezer squinted at them. "You pair ain't from around here."
"Thank the Lord," said Conrad from under his breath.
"You must be Fiona," said the man. This startled both of them, but Conrad more, so.
"No," Fiona heard Conrad whimper in a barely audible voice.
"And you must be Rainy," said Fiona, recovering from her shock at the looks of the pilot she had hired to fly them to San Juan Island.
