Went well, although I’m going to need that extra 20 grand in wordcount to make this book coherent when it’s done. Also: margaritas! I wrote before I drank, don’t worry. But the week I had more or less required a discreet amount of tequila.
“I thought the bishop wasn’t involved in what Brigham was doing. He didn’t mention anything about a cellar.”
“That’s right, he didn’t,” I agreed as I started levering up the lid of a crate. “You remember the first Rule of the Shamus?”
Graciella started to reply, then burst out in a coughing fit. I looked back; the poor girl had managed to stir up a cloud of dust, and was starting to sneeze. There really was a lot of dust in the cellar, wasn’t there?
I turned my attention back to the crate. The nails were in there pretty good. “So, yeah, the first Rule of the Shamus: everybody lies. Sometimes it’s a lie of commission, like ‘Why, that strayed sheep Brigham ran off to the wicked big city all on his own!’ And then there’s a lie of omission, like – ah, here we go.” I levered open the crate, and found what I expected to find, all metallic and dully gleaming in the half-gloom.
Graciella wandered over, and whistled at all those sword blanks. “Yeah,” I said. “Then there’s the ‘Oh, Shamus, I completely forgot to tell you that Brigham was helping us run arms to the diehards.’”
So long as Mrs. Lane isn’t complainin’, and you’re able to make the keyboard clatter coherently, who am I to complain?
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Very much looking forward to “Tinsel Rain”.
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Mew