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Monday, November 7, 2011

From "Shotgun Start" by Mike Nettleton

Dipping chips into green chile salsa, Cepeda flirted with the waitress in rapid-fire Spanish. Short, with flowing hair like midnight, she muted a sweet little-girl laugh with delicate fingers. We ordered without glancing at the menu, carne adovada for me, menudo for him. She departed and he raised bushy eyebrows. “I tried to call your cell, but it bounced me to voice mail.”
“I left it home.” I told him. “People who bring cell phones onto a golf course should suffer eternal damnation. Or an afternoon with a life insurance salesman.”
“Don’t you worry about people not being able to find you, amigo?”
“Not much.”
“Anyway, somebody offed Turk Tejada last night.” He kept his voice low. “It was all over the news this morning.”
Tejada was Dez’s lover. The man she left me for. The man I pistol-whipped when I found them together. “Guy was a waste of perfectly useable skin.”
Es la pura,” he agreed. “Gospel truth.”
I knew what he was thinking. Of all the people who might have wished Turk Tejada dead, I had the best reason. “Not me,” I insisted. “The world owes somebody a big thank you, but not Neal Egan.”

1 comment:

Deadly Duo, Duh Blog said...

Nice to be included with the other great Indie authors on Indie Snippets. If you like hard-boiled detective fiction, this might be for you. I'll check back and see if anyone has a comment later.

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