Posts Tagged ‘To Fetch A Thief’

Tiger King and Us

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May 26th, 2020 Posted 8:15 am

An interesting list to be on.

https://bookstr.com/list/6-books-to-read-if-you-couldnt-stop-watching-tiger-king/

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Sunny Monday

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March 23rd, 2020 Posted 8:39 am

Let’s hope, when this is over, historians will be able to look back and at least say it was a unifying event. While it’s not true in this case that all we have to fear is fear itself, there’s still a lot of virtue in staying calm. In that spirit, here’s the first of our new feature, Sunny Mondays – snippets from the bright side of the Chet and Bernie novels:

We were on the job, trailing some woman whose name I’d forgotten. She’d led us out of the Valley to a motel in a flea-bitten desert town. That was what Bernie called it – flea-bitten – but I felt no fleas at all, hadn’t been bothered by them in ages, not since I started on the drops. But the funny thing was, even though I didn’t have fleas, just the thought of them suddenly made me itchy. I started scratching, first behind my ear, soon along my side, then both at once, really digging in with my claws, faster and –

“Chet, for God’s sake.”

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Beginnings

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March 8th, 2020 Posted 10:34 am

On Sunday we take a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker. How about – since I recently saw something about elephants – To Fetch A Thief? An elephant named Peanut plays an important role.

“I smell trouble,” Bernie said.

Better stop right there. Not that I doubt Bernie. The truth is I believe everything he says. And he has a nice big nose for a human. But what’s that saying? Not much.

It’s a fact that trouble has a smell – human trouble especially, sour and penetrating – but Bernie had never smelled trouble before, or if so he hadn’t mentioned it, and Bernie mentioned all kinds of things to me. We’re partners in the Little Detective Agency, me and Bernie, Bernie’s last name being Little. I’m Chet, pure and simple.

 

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Happy Thanksgiving!

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November 28th, 2019 Posted 8:29 am

Rick Torres crouched under a strip of tape, came toward us, shook hands with Bernie. “Hey, Chet,” he said, and gave me a pat. “Lookin’ good. Is he still growing, Bernie?”

“Hardly seems possible,” Bernie said. “This is my son Charlie. Shake hands with Sergeant Torres, Charlie.”

Rick held out his hand. Charlie gazed down at the ground.

“I won’t bite,” Rick said. Of course he wouldn’t! Hardly any humans did, their little teeth not being much of a weapon. I did remember a perp named Clancy Green chomping on some other perp’s arm, but that was on a Halloween night, the only holiday I don’t like – Halloween brings out the worst in people, Bernie says. Thanksgiving is my favorite, except for that one time with the drumstick incident, maybe a story for another day.

(from To Fetch A Thief)

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The Books



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