I knew that Pine, a master of disguise, was somewhere in the gloom, but where?
Was he one of slushers, or the little old lady with the ratcoon on her lap?
Too late I realized there was something out of tune with the bandstand’s decor.
Not a second later I heard Conya shriek, having been slapped by a running bit of tropical foolage.
Pine was the palm.
He was leafing through the door with Conya’s key in his open frond.
I had rented some guards and they were a lot per suit but I knew they still wouldn’t catch him.