We drove away from Cactus Heights, Lt. Stine, ambulance, crime scene tape, all that.
“The hard part is going to be keeping Ray out of this,” Bernie said.
And if he said it, I believed it, a good thing, because I’d been thinking that the hard part for me was trying to remember what was going on with the case, and now I didn’t have to worry about that.
Bernie sighed. “Guess it’s time for us to head for L.A.,” he said. “Not my favorite place, and it’s going to raise Bob’s bill, but what choice do we have?”
I didn’t know. Soon we were on a freeway, driving toward the sun, which was sinking in the sky and getting bigger and redder as it did. Loved seeing that! Bernie switched on the music. Billie Holiday and If You Were Mine, Roy Eldridge on trumpet. That trumpet did things to me, hard to describe. This was the life.
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