Two barbeque sandwiches and a six-pack of diet Pepsi rode on the seat next to Larry Smith. He backed the cart into the tight garage, connected it to the charger, and closed the door. Soon after, he heard the revelrous drone from a nearby cottage. On the boardwalk leading to his cottage, the sounds became more defined: laughter, loud voices, and a stereo with heavy bass.
Two barbeque sandwiches and The party was in the cottage immediately to the left of his. Light spilled from every window. Inside, he could see clusters of people—young—good-looking—probably rich or waiting for someone to die to be become rich.
Larry continued past the soiree, guided by the small landscape lights dotting the edges of the wooden path. He wanted to pass the house before someone stepped out onto the front po
