What I wanted to do, and pretty badly, was grab Foster by the pant leg. It was pretty clear to me by now that he had to be a perp, but if he was an FBI dude, then how was that possible? One idea was to just grab him by the pant leg anyway and let things get sorted out later. I couldn’t think of another idea. But sometimes all it takes is one idea, or not even. This is all happening at our place on Mesquite Road, in case anybody needs reminding. I know I would.
“You’re saying all that about you having worked for Albie for years was just a lot of blowing smoke?” Bernie said.
“Albie was a hooked fish,” Foster said. “He said what he was told to say.”
“And what did you hook him for?” Bernie said.
“That’s a long story,” Foster said. He turned to Ray. “Which maybe the kid shouldn’t hear. Not unless I take him in, and this may not be the time.
Ray started backing toward the door.
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