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Show Night Keys/8 big hand was wrapped around a coke, an open whiskey pint on the desk. He let the door swish shut behind him. "Are they going to shitcan old Clyde?" Dollar asked. "Those chickenshits." Harris took off his cap and unloaded the Detex. The gooseneck lamp was bent low and the l i g h t gleamed along Dollar's dark forearm. He looked at the pint. "They're worried about his drinking," Harris said. " I l i k e to unwind. I just took me a long r i d e . " He pushed the pint to Harris. "How come you took t h i s job?" Harris sat in the straight backed chair at the side of the desk and retrieved the Odd Hours Report from under Dollar's pint. Rearranged the pages in the clipboard. " I just like to know about people," Dollar said. "I don't mean any harm." " I 'm just t r y i n g to piick up a l i t t l e money for college, that's a l l ." "Where do you live?" "Down in town." Dollar laughed softly. "So they got you out here in the middle of nowhere. You and the dogs." "There's a lot of them," Harris said. "Ain't no cats. Clyde tried to raise him some kittens out here. The dogs ate them up. Where do you suppose they come from? People drive out here and leave them?" "They're wild to start with. They whelp under the ledges along the creek bank. That field on the south side. They attacked a guy at the gravel plant down the road and the sherrif shot a bunch of them, but they just come right back." "Whooee. Who told you that?" Harris hesitated. "They're wild. You can tell, they way they move." |
