A Tiny Taste of Blood
Suzie came back. “It’s a blonde with a tiny gun in her hand,” she said. “I think you’d like her.”
“What’s she driving?” Bernie said.
“Audi,” said Suzie. “Tomato red.”
Bernie grabbed the door handle, jerked the door open, and there was Portia Peters, ex-wife of Kelo, our missing client. The next moment I had her wrist in my mouth and the tiny gun was on the ground. We were a good team, me and Bernie.
“Ow, he’s biting me.”
“I wouldn’t say biting,” Bernie said. “It’s more a clamping thing he does. Chet?”
I let go even though I didn’t really want to. I don’t say no to Bernie.
He pulled Portia inside and closed the door. She took in the sights, namely Freddie Dancer and Trimmer, cuffed and lying on the floor. “You stupid jerks,” she said.
Trimmer raised his head. “Aw, Sis, don’t be that way.”
“Sis?” said Bernie.
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