The Godwulf Manuscript

by Robert B. Parker

“Nothing, Lieutenant. Nobody heard nothing, nobody saw nothing, nobody knows nothing. Half of them are goddamn faggots, anyway.” “Jesus Christ,” Quirk said. “Just give me information; don’t review the witnesses’ sex life for me.” “Okay, Lieutenant. I mean I figured that being as they was faggots you might not want to take their word. You know how these goddamn perverts are.”

You are such a charmer.

He gave me a tough look. Which isn’t easy when you weigh 150 pounds.

Making love in a chair is heavy work. The only other time I’d attempted, I’d gotten a charley horse that damn near ruined the event.

I stopped in front of her house and let her out. I didn’t go in. Having slept with mother and daughter within the same twenty-four hours, I felt fussy about sitting around with both of them in the library and making small talk.

“Get far enough away and it looks kinda pretty, don’t it?” she said. “You only get order from a distance. Close up is always messy.” “Yeah,” I said, “but your own life is always close up. You only see other people’s lives at long range.”

A cold McDonald’s hamburger is halfway between a jelly doughnut and a hockey puck, but the nine-dollar bourbon helped.