"Are you killing time?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "and I've got the bar tab to prove it."
"Would you like some company?" She sat down on the stool to my right without waiting for an answer.
She
was not what you would call a pretty woman, but sitting in the bar at
O'Hare, two hours to kill until boarding, she was pretty enough. "What
are you drinking?' I asked.
"Vodka martini."
I don't normally
drink martinis, but what the hell, I figured, how often does a
middle-aged man, balding and sligh...
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Folks tell me that my blog address is cumbersome, that it's hard to spell and even harder to remember. They may very well be right. Although it's derived from the title of my first mystery, even I can recognize that it's not a user-friendly address. So this page will contain selected entries from that blog. Each entry will include a link back to the original post. Use the link to read comments about the post and to add your own.
