Chapter 29Standing in front of a pewter-colored, wrought iron front door with a design reminiscent of ocean waves, Quammen eagerly waited. He tapped his foot on the stamped concrete slab beneath him and turned down the volume of his side-radio when static blared out of it.
“Come on,” he groaned impatiently.
“Ah doesn’t reckon we sh’d haf come up hyar, ta th’ door,” said Madigan nervously.
“Why not?” Quammen asked, turning to his officer.
“Th’ gate was closed.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t locked. It’s fine.”
“Ah reckon Bouche is jerkin’ us aroun’,” Madigan said, swallowing. “Ah mean, as enny fool kin plainly see, we knows the guy’s not playin’ wif a full deck.”
Quammen nodded, turning back to the door. “Oh, he’s off, no doubt about that. And I’m sure he exaggerated the hell out of what he s
