By Peter E Abresch
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But that was only part of it. Vanity is no match for alcohol. If it were, half the distilleries in the country would go out of business. No, the main thing was that I was working, doing something I believed in. While we stood out there on the sidewalk I almost didn't regret that I wasn't back in the bar having a drink. I passed the time by shaking the dude every time he started to fade or shutting him up whenever he started to groan, and by asking Teresa questions-simple questions, the kind she could answer without having to forget that she was mad.
It wasn't fun. And hardly worth the effort. She finally admitted getting a letter, though, sometime after her daughter ran away. She doesn't remember when, and she doesn't remember what it said. She tore it up as soon as she read it. She does remember the cops coming to see her, especially after Rosalynn turned up dead. " She paused, then said, "I don't know, Brew. Maybe Rosalynn Swift doesn't fit the pattern. " "Yeah, but don't cross her off the list yet. " She made the transition with a jerk.
PART TWO WEDNESDAY NIGHT/THURSDAY Ginny made good time, but it was long enough for me to get a grip on myself. I couldn't afford to fall apart just because this case had turned messy all of a sudden. Alathea needed help in the worst way. So I muttered curses at myself for a while, and finally managed to give Sergeant Encino his desk back. By the time Ginny arrived, I was standing at the counter where I belonged. She came in so fast that she almost hit me with the door. Her eyes jumped back and forth between Encino and me, trying to figure out what was going on.
Bloody bonsai by Peter E Abresch