Free Day 9 by Robert T. Jeschonek Page A

Quincy's cell phone! Please take me, pretty Kitty!"
    Hannahlee took the chip and dropped it in her purse. It was the twelfth cell phone piece that Quincy had handed over that morning. Apparently, though he'd decided to turn over his phone, he was going to surrender it one piece at a time.
    Hannahlee had been right about him not quitting. He'd shown up promptly at 8 A.M. in the hotel lobby, all smiles and pockets full of cell phone parts.
    This latest piece, he gave up in front of the headquarters of Sensophile, just as Hannahlee was opening the door. The two of them had come to hunt Cyrus Gowdy in Sensophile's online game, Willowtopia.
    And they weren't alone. Dunne caught the door and held it open for them both, then followed them through. In spite of his doubts and shame, he'd been the first one waiting in the lobby that morning. The lure of writing the script for the Willows big screen movie had outweighed his other concerns. Maybe, with luck, the three of them would find Gowdy, and Dunne could avoid more danger long enough to claim his prize.
    Sensophile, at least, promised to be a non-threatening stop. Housed in a nondescript glass and steel box of a building, the company's lobby looked bland to the extreme—plain gray walls, fluorescent lights, and one reception desk with nothing on it. Even better, as far as Dunne knew, no original Willows actors were on the premises. No targets for the killer.
    Except Hannahlee. And maybe, since Quincy was no longer posting online updates of her whereabouts, and not everyone recognized her current appearance, she could stay off the radar.
    "Where is everybody?" Quincy rapped on the receptionist's desk. "They know we're coming, right?"
    Dunne tried the knob of the only door other than the one through which they'd entered. It was locked. "Maybe there's a fire drill."
    That was when he heard the music.
    It started out soft, thrumming from the walls. It quickly grew louder, pulsating with drums and guitars.
    Dunne recognized it almost immediately. Quincy caught his gaze and grinned with recognition of his own.
    "'Face Hockey Smash Cut,'" said Quincy. "It's the feme song , baby!"
    Hannahlee nodded. "The opening theme of Weeping Willows ."
    Right after she said it, the door swung open, and the music blared. People poured into the lobby, every one of them wearing a different colorful costume.
    Every one of them dressed up as a different Weeping Willow.
    The costumed Willows surrounded Dunne and Hannahlee, cheering and whooping, throwing confetti and playing kazoos. Some sang along with the Willows theme song, rattling off the lyrics from the unrecorded version written by Cyrus Gowdy.
    Only one of the crowd wasn't dressed like a Willow—a young man in a sleek black suit with a red necktie. He charged through the door and sprang up onto the reception desk, spreading his arms wide.
    "Hey now, heroes!" he said, and the mob said it, too—one of Willows ' famous catch phrases. "What're we fightin' for?"
    "Love and justice!" said the crowd.
    "Darn tootin'!" The man on the desk grinned down at Hannahlee. "We have genuine royalty among us today, gang! How does Sensophile welcome the original Kitty Willow , Lianna Caprice?"
    "Group hug!" The ersatz Willows threw their arms around their guests and each other and squeezed.
    The man on the desk clapped. "And we have another luminary with us, too! None other than the man who's written 43 Willows novels...and who's writing the brand new big screen Weeping Willows movie ! Dunne Sullivan!"
    All the Willows gasped at once. This time, Dunne got an extra-long squeeze from a beautiful girl during the group hug.
    His heart pounded, and his body felt light. For once, he felt like someone special. Like a star.
    And it was awesome .
    "Now let's get to work, folks!" The man on the table blew a tune on his kazoo. "We have to help our honored guests track down Cyrus Gowdy himself ."
    The crowd cheered and applauded as if Gowdy had just appeared in the flesh.