The Ten-Ounce Siesta

Начало книги

The Chihuahua didn’t bark. It coughed.

“It’s the secondhand smoke.” The girl sucked on a Marlboro. “I can’t quit. Spike’s the one who suffers, though. The poor little muchacho probably has lung cancer. He’s been coughing like this for a week.”

Jack Baddalach stared at the Chihuahua cradled in the girl’s arms. There wasn’t enough meat on the little sucker’s bones to fill a Taco Bell burrito, but it looked pretty happy wrapped in a private Cloud of Marlboro smoke. Its goggle-eyed head bobbled back and forth between the girl’s breasts. Her breasts were a lot bigger than the dog’s head. If the dog was dying, it had picked one hell of a way to go.

“Do dogs get lung cancer?” the girl asked.

A handful of girls stood behind her, but they didn’t answer. They looked at Jack, waiting for him to do the job.

Jack looked at them. They were about a thousand miles away from the mental group portrait he’d imagined when he took Freddy G’s call.

Читать дальше →