How terrified they were when the elevator doors reopened before Egmont’s Somalian wife, tied up in white lace and sent to announce that men with the initials J.H. would be taken that night in honor of James Hickok.
“Wild Bill!” Frank concluded. “Whose face appeared on only one known gold dollar coin in U.S. history. Didn’t Dad tell you? It’s the gold dollar that belonged to Egmont. The gold dollar stolen from Dad’s office. Joe, don’t you see? Joe, you look drugged!”
Joe Hardy shook his head to dust the fleas of sleep and fear and beauty from his face, then made his way around the cataract falling from a chasm in the ceiling through a chasm in the floor. He found his brother kneeling by an overturned hat that had sprayed its hold of caramels, butterscotch, licorice, and mints across the room. “Whoever put these candies here must have switched them with the lobster tails and kidnapped Dad,” Frank postulated.