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dingy room, and her pretty mouth curled into a portrait of disappointment. "This place is the pits!" |
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"This is where we think the story is, remember?" |
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Before she could respond, the room was suddenly filled with a barrel-chested mountain of a man with several chins, squinty blue eyes and a mop of unruly dishwater blond hair. He towered six foot four or five and strained his faded chambray shirt to the maximum. He didn't need an invitation. He headed straight for our booth, leaned over and extended a grizzly-sized paw in greeting. I wouldn't have been a bit surprised if the ham-sized appendage had sported two thumbs and three fingers. |
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"Howdy, folks. I'm Constable Madden, but everyone calls me Jake." With that opening volley he was already leading two to nothing. Jake Madden was a Chambers Bay marvelhe could both smile and talk. |
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"Evening, Constable." My own response sounded inordinately stuffy compared to Brenda's. |
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She was gushing. "Hi, Jake." She hauled out her dewy-eyed smile, shifted slightly in the booth and batted her eyes. Big Jake promptly forgot about me. |
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"You folks just passin' through or plannin' to stick around a couple of days and do a little fishin'?" |
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"May do a little fishing," I acknowledged. |
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