Bad Guys

“That’s true,” Sarah said.

 

A car drove by. Somewhere in the distance, a siren.

 

“And whoever tried to claim those envelopes would need some sort of identification,” Sarah said.

 

“Oh sure, a fake ID, you’d have to have one of those. I don’t even know where a person would begin to find one of those,” I said, and thought of Paul and his underage drinking friends.

 

I guess a full minute went by where we said nothing. Sarah started doing some more scribbling on her notepad, adding up some numbers. I was afraid to look over and see what sort of figures she might be playing with.

 

“The thing is,” I said, “I could never pull it off.”

 

“Did somebody suggest you should?” Sarah said, almost defensively. “I didn’t say a word.”

 

“You know how I am. I’m too nervous. I’d break into a sweat at the hotel counter. I’d start stammering. They’d call the police. I’d crack before the interrogation even began. I don’t hold up well under pressure, you know.”

 

“Sure,” Sarah said. “That’s why it’s totally out of the question. It’s just something to talk about, that’s all.”

 

“That’s right,” I said. “Just something to talk about.”

 

“Yeah,” said Sarah, a bit dreamily. “Just something to talk about.”

 

Another car went by. A couple of kids rode by on bicycles, laughing.

 

“I’ll bet, though,” Sarah said, “and I’m just thinking out loud here, but I’ll bet if you made an appointment to see Harley, told him you needed something to calm you down, I’ll bet you he could give you something.”

 

She kept her head down, focused on her notepad, afraid to look at me.

 

I got up from the chair. “I’m gonna go see if we have any Scotch,” I said, and went into the house.

 

 

 

 

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

 

 

Some people need to be thanked.

 

The folks at Bantam Dell have been, and continue to be, a joy to work with, particularly Irwyn Applebaum, Nita Taublib, Bill Massey, and my superb editor, Micahlyn Whitt. Thanks for your confidence, attention to detail, and kindness. Andie Nicolay deserves a special mention for her encouragement and commitment.

 

 

 

And I am grateful, as always, to my wonderful agent, Helen Heller.

 

 

 

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

LINWOOD BARCLAY is the author of Bad Move. He is a columnist for the Toronto Star and lives with his family near Toronto.

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