5
Stalking the God or a God?
Patrick Twombly was missing.
I wanted to smack myself. I deserved a day off. No, I deserved a few weeks off. But I just couldn’t let it go. Bradley had been so certain Patrick had been released from police custody. And heckler-stalker Ralph was convinced Patrick wouldn’t miss a show, even if he was sick—not unless he’d lost his voice, but then he’d have informed the venue manager.
So I’d gone to his house.
I really did want to smack myself now.
“Wembley!” I hollered as I walked through the front door.
“Kitchen,” was his muffled response.
Just as well; I was starving. I’d grabbed a snack on my way out the door earlier this morning but hadn’t eaten since.
The smell of garlic wafted through the house. Vegan cheese soup for lunch, at a guess.
“What has yo
