The Spencer Quinn Box Set #2 by Spencer Quinn

Author:Spencer Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

TWENTY

Boss?” Butch said. We were on the move, driving down a long sloping canyon with mountains on both sides, tall green trees growing on their lower slopes but all rocky and steep above that. “Got a question.”

Georgie took a deep drag at his cigarette, spun the butt out the window. The incoming air, rich and full, more like the air I was used to, felt good in my chest. “What kinda question?” he said.

“About what you’re doing,” said Butch. “For my own development, like.”

“Development?”

“In case I’m ever in your shoes,” Butch said. “Running a company.”

Georgie choked on the cigarette smoke. I’d seen the same thing happen with Bernie from time to time. After, Bernie would always say, “That’s it, cold turkey.” So I was expecting Georgie to say that, too, and looking forward to what would happen next, specifically: would a turkey—it wouldn’t even have to be cold—finally put in an appearance? But instead, Georgie said, “Let’s hear it,” and didn’t mention turkeys at all.

Outside a field of yellow flowers went by, a creek running through them, a winding blue line in all that yellow, kind of familiar. I had one of those memory tastes—does that ever happen to you?—almost as strong as a real taste, in this case of the delicious mushroom Bernie had found. Where was he? I didn’t know. I lay down in the back of Georgie’s station wagon, out of ideas.

“Thanks, Boss,” Butch was saying. “What I’m wondering is if you made all this happen from the get-go or whether it’s more of an on-the-fly situation.”

“Made all what happen?” said Georgie. I wondered about that, too. Flies are something I’m very aware of, and I knew there were none in the car.

“This whole thing with Bernie Little,” Butch said.

Bernie? I listened my hardest. High above a big black bird was making slow circles in the sky, up and up. The sight made me uneasy, hard to say why. I rose.

Georgie was lighting another cigarette. “Bernie Little,” he said, blowing smoke through his nose, always an interesting sight. “Been on my mind for a long time.”

“Yeah?” Butch said, sounding surprised.

“Why wouldn’t he be, for Christ sake?” said Georgie. “He’s competition. Competition’s gotta be watched at all times. Stamp it out if you can—what do you think made this country great?”

“You’re right, Boss.”

“’Course I’m right.”

“But how’s Bernie Little competition? We’re big.”

“Ever heard of reputation? Word-of-mouth reputation—can’t buy that for love or money. And Bernie’s is good and getting better. I’m talking in certain circles downtown. Stine, for example. And Torres. Plus the DA loves him.”

“Yeah? How come?”

“On account of the past few years, since he hooked up with—” Georgie, not looking back, jerked his thumb in my direction. “—he’s been taking on some tough cases and bringing home the bacon.”

Bringing home the bacon: how often had I heard that, followed by no bacon coming forth? Couldn’t tell you how many times, but if Georgie thought I was going to fall for the gag yet again, he was mistaken. We have our—something or other, can’t quite remember the expression—me and Bernie.

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