Chetspeak on Sunday
Bernie said nothing. Silence is a tool. He’s told me that, and more than once. I love it every time he tells me, no matter what it means.
Silence, silence, and then the dude filled it in. Filled it in with talk, which is what usually happens. Once or twice a special silence of Bernie’s has gotten filled in with gunfire, but this dude’s hands were still empty. “My name’s Rugh,” he said. “Cale Rugh. I’m with Donnegan’s, Houston office.”
“Uh-huh,” said Bernie, Donnegan’s being a sort of competitor, but way bigger. We’d met some of their agents at the Great Western Private Eye convention a while back. Bernie gave the keynote speech, and it couldn’t have gone better – the Mirabelli brothers and all those other guys at the back and down the sides plus a few in front must have been real tired to have zonked out the way they did – but I didn’t remember this dude.
“Somewhere we could go for a quick talk?” Rugh said.
“Here is good,” Bernie said.
“We’ll talk in low voices.”
Rugh smiled, showing a lot of white teeth, not small for a human. His eyes showed nothing. “They warned me about you.”
“Colleagues. They said you’re a difficult son of a bitch. But you know what I told them?”
“That anyone who’s any good in this business is a difficult son of a bitch,” Bernie said.
– from The Sound and the Furry.
Welcome Shane & Carmen Miranda, Milo at the pumpkin patchsilkence, 2 beachfront dudes, 2 dudes from MI, Daisy.
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