Posts Tagged ‘beginnings’

Beginnings

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January 17th, 2021 Posted 8:45 am

On Sundays we do beginnings, taking a look at the first few lines of all the Peter Abrahams books including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker – mostly so we can use that word! Moniker! How about Thereby Hangs A Tail today? It’s second in the Chet and Bernie series, but the series can be read in any order. For example, let’s say you wanted to start with Of Mutts and Men, the most recent? Who’s going to stop you? That’s the spirit!

The perp looked around – what nasty little eyes he had! – and saw there was nowhere to go. We were in some kind of warehouse, big and shadowy, with a few grimy high-up windows and tall stacks of machine parts. I couldn’t remember how the warehouse fit in, exactly, or even what the whole case was all about; only knew beyond a doubt, from those nasty eyes and that sour end-of-the-line smell, a bit like those kosher pickles Bernie had with his BLT’s – I’d tried one; once was enough for the kosher pickles, although I always had time for a BLT – that this guy was the perp. I lunged forward and grabbed him by the pantleg. Case closed.

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Beginnings

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January 10th, 2021 Posted 8:01 am

On Sundays we do beginnings, taking a look at the first few lines of all the Peter Abrahams books including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker – mostly so we can use that word! Moniker! Since The Sound and the Furry came up this week – God knows why – how about we go with its beginning?

“One thing’s for sure,” the lawyer said, handing Bernie our check, “you earned every cent.”

Bernie tucked the check in – oh, no – the chest pocket of his Hawaiian shirt, just about his nicest Hawaiian shirt, with the hula dancers and the trombones, but that wasn’t the point. The point was we’d had chest pocket problems in the past, more than once. And possibly more than twice, but I wouldn’t know, since I don’t count past two. What I do know is that checks have a way of falling out of chest pockets.

“What’s he barking about?” the lawyer said.

Bernie glanced at me. “Just wants to get rolling,” he said. That wasn’t it at all: what I wanted was for Bernie to put that check in his front pants pocket where it would be safe. But then I realized that I did kind of want to get rolling. Wow! That was Bernie, knowing my own mind better than I did. And I knew his exactly the same way!

 

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Beginnings

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January 3rd, 2021 Posted 10:47 am

On Sunday we do beginnings, taking a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker. How about today we look in on Iggy, Chet’s next door neighbor and best pal? Here’s the beginning of the short story The Iggy Chronicles, Volume 1:

Old Mr. Parsons knocked on our door. I was lying in the front hall, eyes closed and not really in the mood to open them even though Mr. Parsons was a good buddy. Mr. Parsons had a knock all his own, quiet yet bony, but I’d already known it was him just from the slow bumpitty bump of his steps – he used a walker, couldn’t make it much easier for me than that – and of course how could you miss his old man smell, kind of like stacks of yellowed crumbing newspapers we’d once toppled over, me and Bernie, revealing a perp whose name escapes me – although no perp ever escapes me and Bernie, not in the end – and … and where were we going with this? Easy to lose the thread sometimes: once I had one caught way up inside my mouth. It dangled down and tickled my tongue in a bothersome way. But not now: no thread worries, no worries of any kind. A lovely dream featuring snacks and treats was getting ready to take me in.

 

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Beginnings

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December 27th, 2020 Posted 11:25 am

On Sunday we do beginnings, taking a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker. How about today – in a hopeful spirit for 2021 – we take a look at the start of a novel that’s not even published yet? If that’s too crazy, please stop reading now. Otherwise, here’s the beginning of Tender Is The Bite, coming in early summer:

“I think we’re being followed,” Bernie said.

That had to be one of Bernie’s jokes. Have I mentioned that he can be quite the jokester? Probably not, since we’re just getting started, but who else except Bernie would even think of saying that? We were creeping along at walking speed on the East Canyon Freeway at rush hour, stuck in an endless river of traffic – of course we were being followed, followed by too many cars to count! Not only too many for me to count – I don’t go past two – but also for Bernie. And Bernie’s always the smartest human in the room, one of the reasons the Little Detective Agency is so successful, leaving out the finances part. It’s called that on account of Bernie’s last name being Little. I’m Chet, pure and simple, not the smartest human in the room, in fact, not human. I bring other things to the table.

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