Tiger Shrimp Tango

Начало книги

The naked couple ran screaming out of the hotel, covered with fire-extinguisher foam.

Which didn’t attract much attention in Fort Lauderdale.

A window on the top floor shattered. Broken glass rained down from the high-rise, followed by a toilet-tank lid that exploded in the street.

It became quiet.

The nude pair wiped chemical-retardant foam from their eyes and stared down at the broken shards scattered at their feet.

The quiet didn’t last.

Another window shattered. Then another, and another. Toilet-tank lids flying everywhere and crashing in the street like a drumroll. More naked, foamy people dashed outside.

People began to notice. Police and fire trucks arrived. TV vans.

Two men nonchalantly strolled up the noisy sidewalk through ceramic chunks and suds.

“The key to my new life as a private detective is ultra-sensitive powers of observation,” Serge told Coleman. “You must be able to detect the tiniest out-of-place detail . . .”

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