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of this, and the sullen Kelto. I took several sips of coffee and lit my Camel; suddenly the day looked a little brighter. |
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Ten minutes later I had finished my communion with mother nature and started back to the motel, wondering if that lump under the covers in the room adjacent to mine was up and about, celebrating the new day. Approaching from the west, I could see the Constable's car sitting on the drive near the back of the motel. Jake Madden was standing beside the dusty dark green Pontiac, engrossed in a conversation with two other men. The old E.G. Wage's antenna went up and started spinning. |
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I waited until that conversation broke up, stuck another cigarette in my mouth and casually sauntered back in the big man's direction. For all intents and purposes, I was nothing more than a tourist out for his morning stroll. Halfway down the drive, I got a new reading on the situation. There was a whole lot more going on than I had anticipated. The dirty old Chevrolet was still parked right where it had been the night before, but now it had a yellow strip of plastic tape around it, cordoning it off from the rest of the world. In typical E.G. Wage fashion, I immediately assumed the young couple had gotten themselves caught with their cache and that I was approaching the scene of a Chambers Bay version of a drug bust. By the time I managed to ma- |
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