Posts Tagged ‘moniker’

Beginnings

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August 25th, 2019 Posted 8:18 am

On Sunday we do beginnings – the first paragraph or two or three of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker (and it gives us a chance to use “moniker”!). How about today we look at Dog On It, first in the Chet and Bernie series (which can be read in any order!).

I could smell him – or rather the booze on his breath, before he even opened the door – but my sense of smell is pretty good, probably better than yours. The key scratched against the lock, finally found the slot. The door opened and in, with a little stumble, came Bernie Little, founder and part-owner (his ex-wife Leda walked off with the rest) of the Little Detective Agency. I’d seen him look worse, but not often.

He mustered a weak smile. “Hey, Chet.”

I raised my tail and let it thump down on the rug, just so, sending a message.

“I’m a little late, sorry. Need to go out?”

Why would that be? Just because my back teeth were floating? But then I thought, what the hell, the poor guy, and I went over and pressed my head against the side of his leg. He scratched between my ears, really digging his fingers in, the way I like. Bliss. How about a little more, down the back of the neck? I hunched my shoulders a bit, giving him the idea. Ah, nice. Very nice.

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Beginnings

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May 5th, 2019 Posted 8:40 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – all the Peter Abrahams novels including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker (I know – I promised last week never to use that word again, but what can you do? It’s a funny word.). Here’s the start of A FISTFUL OF COLLARS:

“Heard you drove another one off a cliff,” said Nixon Panero. He spat a thin brown stream of chewing tobacco into an empty paint can, or maybe not that empty. Yellow paint, the yellow of egg yolks, now with a brown swirl in the middle: there’s all kinds of beauty in life.

 

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Beginnings

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April 28th, 2019 Posted 10:46 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – all the Peter Abrahams novels including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker (this is the very first time I’ve used that word in my whole life! No worries – won’t happen again). Here’s the start of THE SOUND AND THE FURRY:

“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! Which is just one of the reasons why the Little Detective Agency is so successful, especially if you forget about the finances part. We’re partners. He’s Bernie Little. I’m Chet, pure and simple.

 

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