Chet, Bernie, Georgie Malhouf
Did we mention that The Dog Who Knew Too Much is now available in paperback? Here’s an excerpt.
Georgie sipped his drink. “Like this bourbon?” he said.
“Very nice,” Bernie said.
“Tell you the truth, Bern,” Georgie began, and I missed some of what came next, on account of: Bern. Bernie hated that! In fact, the last guy who’d tried it, a carjacker from the East Valley, name escaping me at the moment, was now breaking rocks in the hot sun. Were we about to take down Georgie Malhouf? His mustache was really starting to bother me.
“ … whole chain’s a client,” Georgie was saying, “including The Arbuckle Palace in L.A. Check out the world around us. Security – my kind – is only going to get bigger.”
“What’s the other kind?” Bernie said.
Georgie made a motion with his hand, like he was waving away flying insects, although there were none around. I always know when insects are around: they’re very noisy. Birds are much quieter when they fly, kind of crazy.
“The other kind,” Georgie said, “is the lone wolf.” He leaned forward, wagged his finger at Bernie. “Headed for rapid extinction, Bern.” Sometimes things go by so fast you can’t keep up. For example, Georgie’s wagging finger had curly black hair on the back, always interesting, but there was no time to dwell on it, not if wolves were suddenly in the picture. I knew wolves, but only from Animal Planet. I glanced around the bar: no wolves, no creatures of any kind, except humans and me. But the fur on my neck was up and stiff.
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