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Branson, Missouri: The Angels’ Bower
“A suite of our own,” Digger Downs said. “Pretty sweet, huh?”
Fortunato looked around the spacious living area with sofa, loveseat, wide-screen television and mini-bar. It was somewhat more luxurious than the quarters he’d shared with five score monks the past sixteen years or so. The angel decor, though, was not exactly to his taste.
“Does it have to be this... colorful?” he asked.
“Well...”
The room was done in pastel shades of green, blue, and pinkish-red that, despite their muted tones managed to be quite garish when taken together. The bathroom was black, pink, and white faux marble tiles which were laid in swirling patterns that hurt Fortunato’s eyes. He hadn’t been in Digger’s bedroom, but his had a round, bean-bag shaped bed that was enshrouded with gossamer thin fabric that looked like puce colored mosquito netting. Worse yet, there were photos and paintings, and even relics of all sorts all over the damn place
“It’s the best we could do on short notice.” Digger shrugged. “The place is crowded even by their usual standards. There’s some kind of big convention that’s taking a lot of the rooms.”
“Barnett seems to have brought himself a license to print money with this place,” Fortunato said.
Digger shrugged again. “Barnum was right, but we have our own fish to fry. What’s the plan?”
Fortunato roused himself. “Angel was bringing the boy here for some reason. Suppose we poke around a little and find out why?”
“All right,” Digger said, sensing another intriguing story line. “Anything specific we should look for?”
Fortunato shook his head. “I don’t know. You’re the investigative reporter.” Fortunato looked thoughtful. “A talk with the head man himself might be in order.”
“Barnett?” Digger asked. “Yeah. Go straight for the top, I always say.”
“Could you swing it?” Fortunato asked.
“Maybe.”
“One thing, though,” Fortunato said. “ I need to find some way to recharge my batteries.”
“If you’re looking to put hookers on the company charge card—” Digger started.
Fortunato grimaced. “It may come to that. Maybe. But I think I’ve moved beyond that. To something new.”
“Like what?” Digger asked, plainly intrigued.
“It’s all so new,” Fortunato said, “that I’m still not sure about it. But I’ll probably know it when I see it.”
“Probably?” Digger asked.
“Hey, man,” Fortunato said, “that’s the best I can do.”