"O.K.," Lieutenant Adams said. "Sure." He blinked at Malone. "Listen," he said. "About those costumes—"
"We're trying to catch Henry VIII for the murder of Anne Boleyn," Malone said with a polite smile. "O.K.?"
"I was only asking," Lieutenant Adams said. "Can't blame a man for asking, now, can you?"
Malone climbed into his front seat. "Call me later," he said. The car started. "Back to the hotel, Sir Thomas," Malone said, and the car roared off.
VII
Yucca Flats, Malone thought, certainly deserved its name. It was about as flat as land could get, and it contained millions upon millions of useless yuccas. Perhaps they were good for something, Malone thought, but they weren't good for him.
The place might, of course, have been called Cactus Flats, but the cacti were neither as big nor as impressive as the yuccas.
"I knight thee Sir Andrew...."