Pineapple grenade

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A prosthetic leg with a Willie Nelson bumper sticker washed ashore on the beach, which meant it was Florida.

Then it got weird.

Homicide detectives would soon be stumped by the discovery of the so-called Hollow Man. Empty torso with no external wounds, like all his organs had been magically scooped out. Little progress was made in the case until a TV station began calling him the Jack-O’-Lantern Man, which immediately doubled the number of nicknames.

But right now, the victim had yet to be found. In fact, he was still breathing.

A finger tapped a chin. “Should I kill the hostage back at our motel room?”

Coleman surveyed topless sunbathers and swigged a secret flask. “You never asked that question before.”

“I know.” Serge looked at his sneakers. “But this would make four guys in the last two months. I wouldn’t want to be accused of over-reacting.”

“I did notice you’ve been wasting a lot more dudes lately.”

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