The Fast Lane – From The Dog Who Knew Too Much
We merged into light traffic, got in the fast lane. We like the fast lane best, me and Bernie. He started telling the story of how we lost the top, a long story I’d heard many times, involving a perp named Fishhead Hobbs, a heist he was planning at the jewelry store in the Downtown Ritz – this was the same case where I ran into trouble at the fountain in their lobby – and a bee sting, which was when Fishhead’s whole plan started coming apart. Bernie’s words streamed by in a very pleasant way. City smells grew weaker; country smells grew stronger; and at last we were out of the Valley and into the desert. Hills rose in the distance, the zig-zag foot trails up their slopes shining like silver in the morning light. I’ve been on trails like that before, wanted to be on them again, like right now, and real bad.
“Easy, big guy,” Bernie said.
“What got into him?” said Anya.
“He likes open country, that’s all,” said Bernie.
Spence appearance, Saturday night:
Mike Baker, IT dude extraordinaire, has a brand new baby/toddler app at iTunes:
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