It was a damp night in North Berkeley. The weather was as heavy as a boxing glove after four rounds. And so was his wallet. The Northbrae heist went over like a prayer at church, and his take nearly doubled what he thought he’d grab. Time to celebrate, he thought. Maybe take that dame i been eying out to the tracks on Sunday. Double down. And he smiled. Double down on her, he thought grinning. But the grin quickly died as he jerked up with a shudder, eyes caught in the car’s headlights as it swept up and around the turn. The truck lit up like a flashbulb from a Weegee shot, and in an instant went black again. No, it’s not time celebrate, he thought again. There’s still work to be done…
ok. i’ve been reading a lot of crime novels. i mean, that’s all i read. mostly i’m obsessed with Donald E. Westlake. i’m going through his whole lexicon. so, i thought, hey, let me try…
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