The Texas Twist by John Vorhaus

Author:John Vorhaus [Vorhaus, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9781938849077
Publisher: Prospect Park Books
Published: 2013-05-17T04:00:00+00:00

A Captain Kirk Kiss

On Monday morning, Radar and Allie had a fight about, of all things, baby names.

From out of nowhere (from a particularly irrational place, thought Radar) Allie had thrown a moratorium on the game that he, and he thought she, had been enjoying so much. She had decided that it was bad luck to inflict names, even highly speculative or colorful or imaginative or ridiculous ones, especially ridiculous ones, on the unborn. “I don’t want to jinx him,” she’d said, and Radar had joked, “How about Jinx, Jinx Hoverlander?” Well, the trouble with too far is you never know you’re going till you’ve gone, and Allie’s stormy cold shoulder informed him that he had. Considering what was coming up with Sarah, he wondered if she had picked the fight just to put herself in a verisimilitude mood. He hoped so. Otherwise it was just her being mad at him and that was never big fun.

Radar arrived at the office to find Vic proofing posters, wall cards, handbills, web pages, and evites for the foundation’s fete, the magniloquently named Inaugural First Annual April Fool’s Fundraising Celebratiathon and Auction: A Fool and His Money Are Soon Partying. “That’s a mouthful,” said Radar. “You sure folks won’t write it off as a joke?”

“Nope. They’ll be charmed ’n’ disarmed.”

“And how are we going to pay for it?”

“What, this part? This is legitimate enterprise. It pays for itself.”

“I don’t know,” said Radar, still dubious. “It seems a bit much.”

“Anything that’s worth doing is worth overdoing, my friend. You’ll see.”

Radar noticed the call for costumes—Come As Your Favorite Fool—along with attendant examples: Dan Quayle, the Three Stooges, and, with smug self-reference, Mirplo himself. “Costumes, too, I see,” said Radar.

“Oh, yeah. You’ll want to look your best, man. You’d better put your thinking cap on.” Vic considered his own statement, then said, “Of course, you could just wear a thinking cap.”

Radar studied Vic’s promotional mélange. In true Mirplovian fashion, it was six ways over the top, but he had to cede to Vic the savantry of knowing what would draw a crowd. The amazing Mirplo had long since ceased to amaze. Now he just got things done.

At that moment the office door opened and Kadyn stepped in, followed in stride by Adam Ames and a rugged, leathery, ten-gallon Texan that Radar and Vic didn’t know. He was a large, stocky man wearing Austin-standard boots and jeans, a snap-button shirt strained by his gut, and a bolo tie adorned with a chunk of turquoise that could choke a tortoise. Radar and Vic didn’t need to be told that this was Adam’s inside man. He had allocation board written all over him.

And he had his eye on Kadyn. “Are you in school, little cowgirl?” he asked from the condescending depths of a drawl.

“Part-time.”

“Mmm, you got a little ol’ part-time for me?”

Kadyn’s look may have been intended to wither him, but it seemed just to bounce off the man as he moved in and more or less occupied the room.

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