Time to go. We went to the door, Bernie tucking the .38 Special in his belt. I smelled a familiar smell, human female mixed with flowers, so I wasn’t surprised when Bernie opened the door and there, with her fist raised to knock, stood a woman. But Bernie was surprised. Pretty obvious on account of how his mouth opened. A certain kind of woman does things to Bernie, makes him just about helpless. This particular woman – blond and curvy – was that kind.
“Bernie Little?” she said.
“Um,” said Bernie. “Uh, that’s me.”
“I’m looking for Kelo Printz,” she said.
“Us, too,” said Bernie.
“Very clever,” said the woman.
“Huh?” said Bernie.
And maybe he was about to say something more, but before he could, the woman opened her purse, took out a tiny gun and pointed it right at his head.
“Chet, easy now,” said Bernie.
“Hands up,” the woman said. “I’m going to search your house.”
“If you find the TV remote let me know,” Bernie said.
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