Ron Goulart - John Easy 03 - the Same Lie Twice
“The moderate-size town of Choza ended just beyond the small house on Calle Descenso which Gabe Hickey was renting. A few hundred yards away, across a flat black two-lane roadway, stretched fields of dry cornstalks. Hickey’s house was a small three or four-room adobe set back from the narrow street. The earthen brick house was painted a thin yellow and had a slanting tile roof, dusty and brittle-looking. Small square tiles of a pale sea color had long ago been set into roughly circular patterns ...on the front face of the building. Most of these ocean-hued tiles were fallen away and the meaning of the complex design was lost. At the edge of the small house’s dusty lot a fat dog, about the same shade as the pale yellow adobe, was squatting in defecation.
Easy moved on by the yellow dog, walking beneath tall shrubby walnut trees. Scattered across Hickey’s dusty yard were a dozen cocoa-colored doves. They ticked across the soft dirt, pecking at it. Waist-high prickly weeds grew in sparse clumps.MoreLess
Easy moved on by the yellow dog, walking beneath tall shrubby walnut trees. Scattered across Hickey’s dusty yard were a dozen cocoa-colored doves. They ticked across the soft dirt, pecking at it. Waist-high prickly weeds grew in sparse clumps.MoreLess
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