Goodey's Last Stand: a Hard Boiled Mystery (Joe Goodey)
“At Van Ness Avenue I snaked across onto Lombard as if I were going to head north on Route 101 into Marin County. That’s what we police call misleading and evasive tactics. After a few blocks I pulled into a Shell station.
“Fill it up and check everything,” I told a teenaged desperado who slunk out to the pumps, jamming a rolled-up underground newspaper into his hip pocket. At a telephone booth near the sidewalk, I put a dime in the slot and dialed a number in Sausalito. Three rings later, a... high-pitched voice said, “Hello?”
“Hello, Ramsey,” I said. ‘This is Joe. Let me speak to your mother.”
“Hi, Joe, when are you coming to see us?”
“Soon,” I lied, looking at my watch. It was twenty after one. “Is your mother there?”
“Gee, Joe—” I could hear a slight scuffle on the other end of the line, and Rachel Schute’s husky voice came on. “Hello, Joe,”MoreLess
“Fill it up and check everything,” I told a teenaged desperado who slunk out to the pumps, jamming a rolled-up underground newspaper into his hip pocket. At a telephone booth near the sidewalk, I put a dime in the slot and dialed a number in Sausalito. Three rings later, a... high-pitched voice said, “Hello?”
“Hello, Ramsey,” I said. ‘This is Joe. Let me speak to your mother.”
“Hi, Joe, when are you coming to see us?”
“Soon,” I lied, looking at my watch. It was twenty after one. “Is your mother there?”
“Gee, Joe—” I could hear a slight scuffle on the other end of the line, and Rachel Schute’s husky voice came on. “Hello, Joe,”MoreLess
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