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Show Night Keys/4 got a place on the east side. It is great except the kitchen floor slants and things are always rolling off the table. I might come down to see you. It wouldn't have to be a big deal. I just want to get the lay of the land. Pardon the pun. You wouldn't have to spend a lot of time showing me around. It sounds like you are really busy. I am getting things together, at last. I am working for a security company and in a couple of months will get a patrol car and probably a .32 revolver. The bandit strikes again! Would you be surprised if I showed up with red lights flashing and the bullhorn hooked into the radio and old Willie waiting "On The Road Again?" Love. Dollar had not come back. From the top desk drawer Harris brought out the twenty-inch black hardwood billyclub and worked the tongue of his belt through the club's leather holster and pulled the club handle back and away from the swing of his arm. He hefted the Detex, a cylindrical clock encased in studded leather, pulling the strap over his head, went out to lock the personnel gate and started the round. The drive formed part of a wide concrete apron encircling the plant. The floodlights cast white triangles down the walls, wide scallops along the apron, a cloud of bugs swirling under every floodlight. Grit crackled hollowly under his shoes in the shipping bay. Tonight there were two sailboats and a thiry-foot cabin cruiser docked high in their wooden frames. He crossed to the key station, a notched strip of metal hanging from a chain, slipped the key into the Detex slot, clicked it twice, dropped it. The chain jangled and the key clattered against the wall. He headed through the hoist chains and down the stacks to assembly: another |
