We sat outside the Fetzer Gallery, Portia’s Audi a few spaces ahead, and in between another car, this one with a cat in the back. That kept me on edge, but after a while a man got into the car and off it went. I relaxed. We had a little music, not loud.
“Love the Steeldrivers,” Bernie said. “That fiddle player – she’s great.” He sang along a little bit. “Never would have loaded up a .44, put myself behind a jailhouse door, if it hadn’t been for love.” I love when Bernie sings. He has the nicest voice. I howled along just the slightest bit. “Easy, boy.”
The Audi sat there. A shadow moved slowly across it. Bernie switched off the music. “I think I’ve been very stupid,” he said. Huh? Impossible. We got out of the car, entered the Fetzer Gallery. No one in sight but an old guy with a white beard, sitting at a desk.
“We’re supposed to be meeting someone here,” Bernie said. “She’s blond, about five feet – “
“She left some time ago.”
“In a taxi, I believe.” He pointed toward the back door – a glass door with a parking lot on the other side.
Spencer Quinn will be at Titcomb’s Book Shop, 432 Route 6-A, East Sandwich MA 02601, today at 3.
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