"Let me see if I've got this straight," said Sir Morris on the other end of the line. His voice was that of someone who faced a growing problem requiring growing involvement from himself, much to his dissatisfaction.
Rivqua lay on the bed, phone to her ear, other arm covering her eyes for a comforting bit of darkness.
Sir Morris laid the facts out for himself. "The Grand Galactica manager, the first one, died."
"Correct. That was Fadda Bing."
"He was replaced by his brother, called Luffy Bing."
"Correct."
"Then Luffy Bing died."
"Murdered. Just like his brother, except with a laser as opposed to poison, which we were witnesses to. But we had to identify the last one. After the event."
"Wait, not so fast." Sir Morris was silent for a second. "And during all this carnage, no money has been paid out to you."
"Not once cent."
"Despite all manner of promises of advances, cards issued, visits to the bank, the good shows you've done, solid crowds you've pulled in?"
"A Toss Vague-Ass welcome, it's called. Makes the old 'your check's in the mail' look good. At least you got hope."
"Well let's not lose what's left of that just yet. Just out of curiosity, are there any more of these Bing brothers to spare?"
"Who knows? If there are, the only ones likely to reap any benefit from them would be the undertakers."
"Mm." He paused for a moment. "Are you eating well?"
When things got tight, as they inevitably do in show business, Sir Morris had a way of giving off what sounded like fatherly concern, sort of out of nowhere. Perhaps he was buying time while figuring out how to deal with the problem with the least amount of effort, yet not putting the Blonde Plutoz in deeper straits than his conscience would allow.
"Yes we are," Rivqua sighed. "The food works, as do the coffees. Endless supply actually. Who knows, perhaps we're being slowly poisoned."
"Let's not run away with our imaginations."
"Perhaps there's a hidden laser gun trained on my head as we speak."
"Enough with the ridiculous. Where's Zana?"
"She's in the other room, composing a satirical ode to this town. Thought we'd play it tonight."
Sir Morris whistled. "Uh-oh."
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