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would do a great deal to defuse my suddenly overactive imagination. Common sense was telling me that I had better get B.C. back to the car. Percy Kramer and his pickup truck were on their own. I had already begun to rationalize alternative courses of actionand hunting up Jake Madden to tell him where Percy and his truck were made the most sense to me. |
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On balance, I will admit to having handled the whole thing rather sloppily. So far, this wasn't what I like to think of as a typical E.G. Wages performance. Allowing Brenda Cashman to come along had been my first mistake, and bringing her back out to the site of the Percy Kramer affair had been an even bigger one. To top it off, I had ignored Cosmo's advice, and instead of carrying my survival kit with me everywhere I went, I had opted to leave it in the Z. Here I was, practically defenseless, at the site of an all too recent unsolved atrocity. The closest thing I had to a weapon was a small butane cigarette lighter. Not vintage E.G. Wages. |
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I had uttered the magic words, and it was just what Brenda wanted to hear. Immediately, a look of relief captured her finely sculptured face, and she quit shaking. She slipped her hand into mine and leaned forward with her head on my chest. ''I'm sorry, E.G.," she managed, "but I'm worried about him. What could have happened to him?" |
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"Probably the same thing that happened |
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