When the Phone Rings, My Life Always Takes a Turn

Boo and I feasted, Boo taking down the shrimp one by one as I handed them over to him.  I reckon we were closer to the end than the beginning of our dinner when the phone rang.  I hate the sound of a phone ringing my stomach turns each time it rudely intrudes into my privacy.  That ringing means either another dead body or a blasted salesman or a wrong number.  None of which I really care to deal with, but I always do after I moan for a bit.  Boo never lets on that he hears the phone, he just keeps on doing whatever he's doing.  I kinda wish I could do that, but I can't.  So I retrieve the black Western Bell from the counter, give the cord a pull and set it down beside the sweet-and-sour pork.

"Yo, MacKenzie here."   I was jumping to the conclusion it was dispatch calling, but was taken aback, but the sound of a lady's voice.

"Mr. MacKenzie," the light voice on the other end of the line said, "I believe we need to talk."

"Who is this please?"

"I'd rather not say just yet.  But I have some information about a certain lady you met the other night in the Ambassador."

I was puzzled how she had made the connection between this phone number and that murder.  "Ma'am, who referred you to me?"

"A mutual friend."

"Okay, Ma'am.  What information do you have?"

"Could you meet me in the courtyard of Old Corner Bookstore, let's say at noon tomorrow?"

"That'll be fine.  How will I find you?"

"Don't worry, I'll find you."

I started to fish for more, but she gave me a quick hang-up and we were done.  "Most intriguing, Boo, most intriguing.  Hey, I found another shrimp, big guy."

That night, Boo gave himself a bath and I read some Zane Grey.  I slept in my blue print boxers and Boo slept at my feet.







The End

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