Posts Tagged ‘Portia’

TMI

3 Comments »

September 14th, 2009 Posted 8:00 am

“You were about to explain the case,” Suzie said, taking out a notebook.

“I can’t explain everything,” Bernie said. “And until then this has to be off the record.”

“Fine,” said Suzie. “But I want an exclusive.”

Bernie gave her a look hard to interpret. “An exclusive is what you’ve got.” That all zipped by me, but it seemed to make Suzie happy – she flashed a quick smile.

“Let’s start with Ezra Printz. He handled PR on the Greed shoot. Chet found a film can in Death Valley.” Hey! I’d almost forgotten that. And then I remembered something from that Death Valley cave: a skull. Uh-oh. “What are you barking about?” Bernie said. “Easy, boy.” I stopped. “The making and editing of Greed is a very fractious story. It led to bitter feelings between Erich von Stroheim and Louis B. Mayer. I believe they got into an argument in Death Valley and a bystander, possibly a script girl or something like that, was accidently killed. Somehow the whole thing got filmed, and I think Ezra Printz ended up with the film.”

Trimmer looked up from the floor. “How do you know all this?”

“Zip it,” said Portia.

Share

In The Game

4 Comments »

September 8th, 2009 Posted 7:52 am

“I’ll make a deal,” Portia said.

“Where’s Kelo?” said Bernie. “That’s the only deal we’re interested in.”

Made sense to me. Kelo Printz was the client. The client pays the bill at the end the of the case. No client, no money, and our finances were a mess already.

“Not one more word,” said Freddie Dancer, down on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back.

Bernie gave him a little poke with his toe. “Freddie, you’re not in the game anymore. That’s what lying cuffed on the floor means.”

“I can’t tell you where Kelo is,” Portia said. “But I can tell you what this is all about.”

“We just want to know where Kelo is,” said Bernie. “We know what this is all about.”

We did? That was good to know. I got the feeling we were doing great, gave Freddie’s pant leg a quick nip.

Share

On Golden Pond

6 Comments »

August 28th, 2009 Posted 7:49 am

“The kind of deal,” Portia said, “where I walk away.”

“Sounds good,” Bernie said. “In theory.”

“What the hell does that mean?” said Portia.

I was kind of with her on that. Plus at that moment my mind was wandering back to the time I got nipped by a duck. We’d been working on a divorce case – we hate divorce work, me and Bernie, but our finances were a mess back then, and still are. Those Hawaiian pants … Anyway, we were out at a ranch where they had a nice little pond. I love swimming! And it was a hot day, so I jumped in for a quick dip. After a while I realized I didn’t have the pond to myself. There was this duck drifting around. A duck is a kind of bird and I don’t like birds much, but ducks like swimming and so do I, so I swam over just to … I don’t know, give the duck a friendly little bump or something. But I never got the chance because all of a sudden the duck squawked, started flapping its wings and paddling hard with its weird feet, and then zoomed right at me, opened its mouth wide – no teeth, what’s with that? – and nipped me right on the nose. More like a bite, really, even with no teeth. I’ve got teeth, big and sharp, but the next thing I knew I was swimming backward, real fast, the only backward swimming I’ve ever done.

But where were we?

Share

Duct Ducks

3 Comments »

August 27th, 2009 Posted 11:23 am

“Sis?” said Bernie. “Meaning this gentleman – ” He pointed with his chin at Trimmer. Love when Bernie points with his chin. He has a very nice chin. Some humans have almost no chin at all. I never like the sight of that. “Meaning this gentleman,” he was saying, “is your brother?”

“He’s no gentleman,” said Portia. “I want to make a deal.”

“Portia, for God’s sake,” said Trimmer.

“Make a deal and it’s the last thing you ever do,” said Freddie Dancer.

Bernie’s face got hard. A minute or so later, Freddie Dancer had a strip of duct tape over his mouth. We can be tough, me and Bernie. Also duct tape has nothing to do with ducks; that confused me for a long time. Once a duck nipped at me, maybe a story for another time.

“What kind of deal?” Bernie said to Portia.

Share

The Books



powered by wordpress | site by bakermedia