Dexter's Final Cut (Dexter 7)

“I don’t do shrink,” the woman growled at him.

“Well, somebody did—look at this!” Robert held open the shirt and showed his bare chest. It was smooth and hairless, as if he waxed it, but it must be said that it was also lean and smoothly muscled. “There’s no fat there, none at all!” he told her.

The woman—Sylvia?—stepped in to Robert and pulled at the shirt; she couldn’t make it close either. She hissed loudly, and then jerked the shirt off him. “Teddy!” she snarled, and the young man who’d been carrying uniforms hurried over.

“Sylvia, the arm patches are all coming off, too, and we don’t have enough hot glue for—”

Sylvia flung Robert’s shirt at the poor guy, and he caught it with his face. “Take this,” she snarled. “Go get another just like it—two sizes bigger.”

“I don’t know if they have any more in this pattern?” Teddy said plaintively, peeling the shirt off his face. “The man said they—”

Sylvia closed her eyes. “Go,” she said quietly, but in a voice that was boiling with dreadful menace, and Teddy fled with the shirt.

“Hey, Dexter!” Robert said. He swung his eyes onto Cody and Astor. “Whatcha got here, huh?”

Astor looked at me with brand-new, never-before-seen respect in her eyes. “You do know him,” she said. “You know Robert Chase!”

“Of course he knows me,” Robert said happily. “He’s been teaching me about forensics all week. For my new show.” He took a step closer to the kids and held out a hand to Cody. “Howdy, partner,” he said.

“Hi,” Cody said, staring at him solemnly, and then slowly shaking Robert’s hand.

Robert turned to Astor and held out his hand. “And what’s your name, beautiful?”

Astor blushed. It was an astonishing sight, something I had never seen her do in all the long years I had known her. She blushed, and held out her hand to Robert as if she was reaching for the crown jewels.

“Astor,” she said, in a voice so soft it might have been Cody’s.

“Astor,” Robert repeated, smiling at her. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He beamed at her, holding her hand for a few seconds too long, and then turned to me. “Dexter, holy smokes, you said you had kids, but you didn’t tell me your daughter was a supermodel.” Astor’s face turned even redder, but Cody frowned. Clearly he was feeling slightly left out.

“Well, what have we got here?” came the loud and frightening voice of Sylvia the costume witch. I turned around, prepared to draw a sword and slay her before she could eat my kids, but instead I found her beaming.

“These are Dexter’s kids,” Robert told her. “You know, my technical adviser.”

“Well, they are b

eautiful!” Sylvia gushed. Her face split into something that was probably supposed to be a fond smile; it was hard to say, since Sylvia’s face was clearly not made for such things. But she smiled and looked at Cody and Astor with maternal affection, and I could not have been more amazed if I had seen a balanced federal budget.

Sylvia knelt down between Cody and Astor with that same fond and phony-looking smile on her face. “Hello, little man,” she said to Cody. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, my—you’re very strong—are you a football player?”

Cody was trying very hard not to look pleased. “Soccer,” he said in his too-soft voice.

“That’s a wonderful sport,” Sylvia cooed at him. “What’s your name?”

“Cody,” he said. He was clearly torn between resentment at being treated like an idiot and delight at having someone pay him that much attention, but it looked like delight was winning.

“My name is Sylvia,” she told him. “I’m in charge of all the clothes that the actors wear for the show.”

Cody nodded. “Costumes,” he said.

Sylvia clapped her hands in delight. “That’s right!” she said. “So you’re smart, too!”

Naturally enough, Astor didn’t like being left out. She rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, brother,” and Sylvia glanced her way.

“And what’s your name, dear?” Sylvia said.

“My name is Astor,” she said. “I’m going to be an actress.”

“Well,” Sylvia said, “all little girls think that.”