As I drove southwest on Market Street toward the old people’s home beyond Twin Peaks, it occurred to me that this job had more old men in it than the Supreme Court At the entrance to the home, I found a gatekeeper sitting in an outsized telephone booth with a Zane Grey novel in his shiny lap. He ...
Missy was nowhere to be seen. “How’s it going, Caleb?” Jardine asked, throwing him the reins. “Any problems? Any excitement?” “No, Master. Things pretty much as usual. Nobody did much work. We had a good vacation.” “That’s mo...