Archive for March, 2010
March 31st, 2010 Posted 8:50 am
“A one night stand,” said Colonel Bob. “But memorable – and not just because I shipped out the next day.”
“Did you see her when you got leave?” Bernie said.
Colonel Bob shook his head. “I never went back home – there wasn’t anything left there for me.”
Not going back home? I didn’t get that at all. I love home! Our place is on Mesquite Road and backs right onto the canyon. The fun we have out there, me and Bernie! I thought about canyon fun for a while and when the while was over Bernie and Colonel Bob were talking about DNA. DNA comes up in our work from time to time – we’re partners in the Little Detective Agency, me and Bernie – but what it is exactly I’ll leave to you.
March 30th, 2010 Posted 10:27 am
“Her name was Astrid Jason,” said Colonel Bob. “She was old for her age and I was young for mine. That maturity gap sound familiar?”
Bernie laughed. Love human laughter – have I mentioned that already? – and Bernie’s is the best. “Suzie says that if men lived to a hundred and fifty or so they still might not catch up.”
Colonel Bob laughed, too. What was funny? Don’t ask me. “Astrid came from some pretty rough people, the white-lightning type. Her uncle was a buddy of Junior Johnson back in the day. But that’s not the point. The point is she wanted to see me in my brand-new uniform. And then she wanted to see me out of it.”
March 29th, 2010 Posted 8:25 am
“I’m from Tennessee originally,” Colonel Bob said.
“I knew that,” said Bernie.
“My great great whatever he was grandfather fought for the south, like yours,” Colonel Bob said. “Rode with Nathan Bedford Forrest, in fact.”
“Not at Fort Pillow, I hope?” Bernie said.
Bernie shook his head. Colonel Bob shook his head, too. I just lay there in our kitchen. It was real early in the morning and I wasn’t quite awake, a nice, heavy kind of feeling.
“I dropped out of high school and enlisted,” Colonel Bob said.
“I knew that, too,” said Bernie.
“But the night before I shipped out, I happened to meet this girl.”
March 28th, 2010 Posted 8:28 am
“I smell trouble,” Bernie said.
Better stop right there. Not that I doubt Bernie. The truth is I believe everything he says. And he has a nice big nose for a human. But what’s that saying? Not much.
It’s a fact that trouble has a smell – human trouble especially, sour and penetrating – but Bernie had never smelled trouble before, or if so he hadn’t mentioned it, and Bernie mentioned all kinds of things to me. We’re partners in the Little Detective Agency, me and Bernie, Bernie’s last name being Little. I’m Chet, pure and simple.
I took a quick sniff, smelled no trouble whatsoever, just as I’d expected, but did smell lots of other stuff, including burgers cooking on a grill. I looked around: no grill in sight, and this wasn’t the time to go searching, although all at once I was a bit hungry, maybe even more than a bit. We were on the job, trailing some woman whose name I’d forgotten. She’d led us out of the Valley to a motel in a flea-bitten desert town. That was what Bernie called it – flea-bitten – but I felt no fleas at all, hadn’t been bothered by them in ages, not since I started on the drops. But the funny thing was, even though I didn’t have fleas, just the thought of them suddenly made me itchy. I started scratching, first behind my ear, soon along my side, then both at once, really digging in with my claws, faster and –
“Chet, for God’s sake.”
I went still, one of my back paws frozen in mid-air.