Brain clog: plunger needed. Rita's baby doll face appears in the doorway, her wispy blonde hair windblown across her face. "Oh, thank God, you're here, Dexter." Relief explodes into her voice, and she pulls me in by the shirt. "Cody has got the chicken pox, and we're trying to keep Astor ..."
"Quarantined?" I add, and her smile breaks ground.
"Yeah. Quarantined. Listen," her smile fades, and the wrinkles around her nose appears. She's wants something.
"What is it?' I asked, agreeable. It was still a subtle disconnect between me and Rita, despite Mr. Romance being back in town.
"I know it's a lot to ask, but could you take Astor for the night?" I paused, my lips hanging in the air. Kyler's soon-to-be-fragrant corpse strewn in a garbage bag across the backseat. "It's too much --"
"No. I can do it. Just give me a second. I have to make a call." The smile floods into her face again, and she kisses me lightly. Her kiss was light and unemotional. I bolt back to the car as soon as Rita's waifish figure recedes past the doorway.
I whip open the door, and drag Kyler out. The bag was heavier than I remember, and great grabs of Kyler's flesh is hard to hold on to. Kyler's body lands on the concrete with an skull-splitting crack. Oh, great.
Rita's door creaks loudly, and I can hear her slippered foot patter approaching us. Us is me and a rotting corpse.