Get Me A Gun. If I Don't

If I Gave You A Pity Position It Wouldn't Be In My Office.

I Think That Some Books Are More Successful Than Others To Certain Readers. People Who Read My Books For The Humor, They're Going To Love One Book. People Who Read My Books For The Mystery, They Might Not Like That Book Quite As Much.

A Uniform Cordoned Off The Area With Crime Scene Tape. The M.e. Pulled In And Parked. There Were Two Emt Trucks Idling At The Edge Of The Lot. I’d Stayed Close To The Back Door, And One Of The Rangeman Guys Had Taken A Position Two Feet From Me, Standing At Parade Rest. No Doubt In My Mind He’d Take A Bullet For Me Rather Than Face Ranger Over A Dead Stephanie.

[ranger] "how's Your Mental Health?" He Asked. "i Heard About Soder." [stephanie] "i'm Rattled." "i Have A Cure." Oh, Boy. He Put The Truck In Gear And Headed For The Exit. "i Know What You're Thinking," He Said. "and That Wasn't Where I Was Going. I Was Going To Suggest Work." "i Knew That." He Looked Over At Me And Grinned. "you Want Me Bad." I Did. God Help Me.

Opening My Door To Dillon Ruddick, My Bulding Super. I Handed Him A Cup Of Coffee. "sorry About The Blood." "what Was It This Time?" No One Reported Gunfire." "i Hit A Guy In The Face With A Hair Dryer." "whoa." Dillon Said. "it Wasn't My Fault," I Told Him. "maybe We Should Lay Down Some Linoleum Here. It Would Make Things Easier For Clean Up.