Posts Tagged ‘tin futures’

Making Progress


May 22nd, 2010 Posted 8:40 am

Bernie took out some money. It had recently passed through the hands of a woman – I smelled perfume on the bills. Actually the same kind of perfume that Tulip wears. Tulip works for Livia Moon in the back part of her coffee place in Pottsdale. Livia Moon gave Bernie a real big kiss the last time we were there. It all goes back a long time to when Bernie was at Fort Hood, wherever that may be, and Livia was running a little nearby operation “to cheer up the boys,” she said. Is all that in To Fetch A Thief? Some? Any? Meanwhile the perfume scent was overpowering that other scent, very faint anyway, but important in this line of work. For any newcomers out there maybe this is the time to mention that we’re partners, me and Bernie, in the Little Detective Agency. Got any missing people in your life? That’s our specialty. Get in touch. We could use the money, on account of the way our finances are a mess. First came Hawaiian pants. Then tin futures. Tin futures turned out to be kind of complicated. Something happened in Bolivia, or maybe not Bolivia. Name some other place like that.

Meanwhile, Bernie and Foster were talking. The sound was kind of pleasant. Of course I always like hearing Bernie talk: he has a beautiful voice.


Tin Futures For Fun And Profit


May 12th, 2010 Posted 7:26 am

“Couldn’t help but notice,” Bernie said, “that you talked about Astrid being a reader in the past tense.”

“Did I?” said Foster.

Bernie gave him a look.

“Didn’t mean anything by it,” Foster said. “She still is, far as I know.”

“I’d like to confirm that,” Bernie said. “Any idea where I can find her?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Foster said. “What’s your interest in her, don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m working for a client.”

“And who would that be?”

“I’d love to tell you, Foster. But it would make me an idiot.”

Bernie an idiot? No way. He was always the smartest human in the room.

“Okay,” said Foster, “then tell me this: any way this client of yours would be willing to pay for information??”

“Information about what?”

“I think you know,” Foster said.

Did Bernie know? I sure didn’t. How were we doing on the case? Not sure about that either. I tried to remember who was paying. Our finances were a mess, in case I haven’t mentioned that. The Hawaiian pants! And then the tin futures! What were tin futures again? Bolivia? Something had gone wrong, but what? An earthquake? Or some farmer had made a big discovery. Is that in To Fetch A Thief? I opened my mouth very wide, just about my widest. That did the trick.


Tin Futures (1): From Thereby Hangs A Tail


May 6th, 2010 Posted 8:52 am

Lieutenant Stine went away. I polished off my steak tips, stretched out on those cool tiles, chilled out. What a life! The final chase through the warehouse ran pleasantly through my mind. And then again. After a while, I grew aware that the Hawaiian shirt guy had moved next to Bernie and struck up a conversation, at first about Hawaiian shirts, then about something else.

“What I run,” he was saying, “is what you might call a hedge fund for the little guy.”

“Little guy?” said Bernie.

“Not little in terms of intelligence or ability,” the Hawaiian shirt man added quickly. “But for one reason or another, men of distinction who don’t happen to be Wall Street insiders. I’ve had some nice play in commodities lately. You’re familiar with the basics of tin futures?”

Bernie motioned for another drink, overturning the salt and pepper. “Can’t be that complicated,” he said.

“Exactly,” replied the Hawaiian shirt man. And to the bartender when Bernie’s drink came: “I’ll get that.” Then came a lot of back and forth about tin, puts, calls, Bolivia and other mysteries. My eyelids got heavy, way too heavy to keep open. I let them close, drifted off. Harmless talk was all it was. As long as the check book didn’t come out of Bernie’s pocket we were in good shape.

Sometime later I awoke, feeling tip-top. I got up, gave myself a good shake, looked around. The bar was empty except for me, the bartender, the man in the Hawaiian shirt, and Bernie. The only completely sober one was me. Then came the bartender, the man in the Hawaiian shirt, and Bernie, dead last. Also, the check book was coming out.




February 16th, 2010 Posted 8:21 am

Rich? Did someone down at the bottom say something about us being rich? Our finances are a mess! First there were the Hawaiian pants. Bernie doesn’t understand why they didn’t sell like hotcakes, whatever those might be. Instead we’ve got them out the yingyang in our self-storage. And don’t forget that Leda owns half the business. Leda’s Bernie’s ex, for anybody who hasn’t read Dog On It or Thereby Hangs A Tail. As for the tin futures – how that worked out is in book three. Also we meet some unhappy people in this job, and Bernie doesn’t always charge them full price. Bernie, I think every time, full price! Please!

Last night we watched Westminster. The nation within the nation on parade, Bernie said. Anyone else catch the show?

But I’ve got a nagging feeling this post was supposed to be about something else. Maybe if I just stay here it will come to me.

It didn’t.


The Books

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