Flo up and about on her walker.
Brian has joined Peter in Evansville. He called me yesterday while struggling to find the parents’ house on Bellemeade. I was outside cutting the grass. I wouldÃve told him getting lost is part of the arrival ritual. I usually drive down route 41, past their street, then I get trapped in traffic where I’m forced onto the bridge over the muddy Ohio River. Once on the Kentucky side, IÃll wander in the swampy area behind the race track until some homeless guy guides me back to the right state. ThatÃs after IÃve traded a dollar for a swig of his Thunderbird. It might be a good thing Brian did not reach me.
Did I tell you Diane bought her new car with zero input from me? She researched it, had dealers bidding against one another, and sealed the deal without any help. Not that she needs help, I mean, she might have liked to have had help… .
A hundred pages into The Closers and not a glimpse of the killer.