A Name From The Past
Tulip raised her tiny nose to the air, sniffed once or twice. A tiny, turned-up nose, no way it could be capable of anything, right? But then came a big surprise.
“Do you smell anything?” she said.
Bernie had a much bigger nose, although I’d known for a long time it was pretty much useless. He too sniffed the air. This was getting interesting.
“Um,” Bernie said. “Maybe floor wax?”
Floor wax? Tulip’s motel room was carpeted wall to wall. But you had to love Bernie, always the smartest human in the world.
Tulip shook her head. “I smell Sagebrush,” she said.
Impossible to miss sagebrush, of course, one of the strongest smells out there. Absolutely no trace of it in Tulip’s room, trust me.
Bernie sniffed again. “Well, maybe a tiny bit,” he said.
“I’m not talking about the plant,” Tulip said. “I’m talking about the cologne.”
“Cologne?” said Bernie.
“Sagebrush Cologne,” said Tulip. “For men. Ratko practically soaks himself in it.”
“Ratko?” Bernie said.
“Ratko Savic,” said Tulip.
We knew Ratko, me and Bernie; Ratko with his long drippy nose and fondness for knife play. Where had we found out he’d made parole? Oh, yeah. In a bar not far from the fairgrounds – won’t name the owner, right now, but I think it’s in To Fetch A Thief.
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