Ron, Ivan, and Al Capone were there when I arrived.
"Anything to report?" I asked, mostly because I knew they'd like that.
"All is okay." Ivan gave me two thumbs-up. "Over and out."
Al Capone started chewing on the hearse.
"Glad to hear it," I said. "But you only say 'over and out' when talking on a radio or some other device."
Ivan frowned. "That does not make sense. If you are in person, you should be able to use that phrase."
I didn't have time for a lesson. Besides, what Ivan said kind of made sense. More importantly, I needed to talk to Stewie before he was arrested.
Ron said, "We are so sorry we did not help you last night."
I waved them off. "How could you have known? I didn't even know." Even though the guy in the truck knew.
"We have been patrolling with Al," Ron said. "Maybe he might sniff out bomb."
A bomb-sniffing goat? I've heard of a bomb-sniffing ferret and once met a bomb-sniffing sloth in Costa Rica. Unfortunately, his first assignment was his last. Why they picked a creature so slow, I'll never know.
"Is anyone at home?" I motioned to the chapel.
"Just short, fat redhead kid," Ivan said. "Others had to go home to do the chores."
"Great! I'll head inside." I hesitated. "Over and out."
Ivan cheered loudly behind me as I entered the Chapel of Despair.
I found Stewie in the front pew, head in his hands, looking miserable.
"Hey Dred Demon." I sat behind him and patted him on the back.
He screamed.
"Sorry," I apologized quickly. "I did not mean to startle you."
When his breathing returned to slightly normal, he shook his head. "It's okay, Bird Goddess. I was just thinking about Sherman."
I leaned back. "Why didn't you mention he was your cousin?"
Stewie shrugged miserably. "We always hated each other. Our families didn't really get along. And most of the time, Sherman tried to one-up me. Like, on everything. When I was successful, he was more successful."
Stewie was successful? I decided to let him continue, but I wanted to follow up on that later.
"Sherman's family always had money. So, when I formed the cult, he formed a cult with a longer name. When we bought this place, he got a much nicer place with paid staff." He looked at me for a moment. "Do you think I should pay Claire? I mean, she's awesome and stuff."
"You guys have the money. You should. Talk to her. Although with her new promotion, she may not have as much time for you guys."
"Great," he moped.
"Hey, she's got Toby interviewing people, and she's gotten Riley to take your case."
That seemed to help, and he perked up, which for Stewie was one step above despair and just below sad.
"You were saying Sherman always had to one-up you…"
"Oh yeah. I don't even think he wants to be a cult or druid. They don't have rituals in the woods or anything."
I decided not to tell him that I was going to one of their rituals. He wouldn't take it well, even if I insisted it was only to get intel for his defense. You just don't kick a dred demon when he's down. At least, I thought you shouldn't.
"They did seem less druidy than you," I admitted.
"He really went off the rails when we got the Beetle Dork rights," Stewie continued. "He spends most of his time trying to find a graphic novelist who's about to hit it big. I told him we just sort of stumbled into it, but that didn't matter."
"Don't you downplay your success to make him feel better! So what if he squirms a bit? He seems like a total jerk."
Stewie gave me a weak smile. "Yeah, I guess that's true."
"I have a couple of questions," I pushed on. "Did you know that Sherman was planning to have a Con before you scheduled yours?"
The considerable corners of Stewie's mouth drooped. "I don't want to tell you."
"What?" I threw up my arms. "Why?"
"You'll get mad at me, take Sherman's side, and defect to his cult."
"For crying out loud! No I won't!" I said a bit too loudly. I lowered my voice. "I just want to know is all. I have absolutely no plans to join Sherman's cult." Even if Sherman thinks I am.
The dred demon sighed heavily. "I just wanted to know how it felt, you know? To see what it was like to do to him what he's done to me all these years."
"Totally understandable. Go on."
This seemed to perk him up a little. "Well, I heard through the grapevine that Sherman was thinking of putting together a Druid-Con in order to find a graphic novelist who would sell the rights to the Cult of Eternal Fear and Loathing. I'm pretty sure he wanted it given to him, like Hilly did with us. That would be a total win…especially if it did better as a movie than ours."
"Let me get this straight, you heard through the druid grapevine," I started to say.
He shook his head. "No, Grandma told me. She thinks he's weird."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I continued. "Sherman wanted what you had. He planned a Con. You found out from Grandma. You wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine."
"Yes!" He punched his fist into his palm. "Exactly!" Then he winced from the pain.
That answered that question. Sherman was mad, and Stewie really did steal his thunder.
"Are you mad? I know they would've at least spelled Bird Goddess correctly."
I did something I never, ever did with this group. I hugged him. His arms came around me, and he squeezed. It felt like someone blowing on me. I barely felt it. Maybe I should suggest my cult have a workout room.
I released him, but Stewie didn't let go.
"Okay, that's good." I gave him a squeeze as a signal the hug was done.
Stewie's eyes were closed. "Maybe some of your goddess status will rub off on me!"
It was easy to extricate myself from his nearly invisible grasp.
"You didn't answer my question," he said as he pulled back and straightened his loose-fitting T-shirt.
"Hey!" I pointed at his shirt, which featured me, as Beetle Dork. "You're merchandising me? Without my permission?"
"It's a prototype," Stewie insisted. "This is the only one."
Kayla and Mike walked in wearing the same shirt.
"Bird Goddess!" Kayla spotted me and ran down the aisle with all the energy of a depressed tortoise. "You wouldn't believe how many of these Beetle Dork shirts we're selling! We can't keep up with demand!"
I looked at Stewie. "You were saying?"
The kid jumped to his feet and ran up the aisle screaming.
My cell buzzed from a number I didn't recognize. I started to follow Stewie. I still had to ask him why he'd agreed to the felony clause. I had no idea why Blue Zombie would put that in.
"Hello?"
"It's me, Toby. That Austin guy is in the bar at the hotel right now. I've got to go home because I have an iguana emergency and a Spanish exam tomorrow." He hung up.
Stewie would have to wait. I had a chance to encounter Austin naturally instead of breaking into his hotel room guns blazing. And since I didn't have my gun, this would have to do. I raced outside, waving briefly to Al Capone, who was chewing on a garden hose.
"Merry!" Ivan called.
"Sorry guys! I've got someplace to be!"
Ron ran over and handed me an envelope. "That pretty girl Claire dropped this off for you."
Ah. The copy of the contract. Even though I knew what it said, it was good to have. I slipped it into my purse, climbed into my minivan, and drove toward the Radisson.