Maybe it was actually being here in Kansas, the land of good manners and courtesy, that changed my mind. I decided I wouldn’t just barge in on Bonnie Munson. I’d call her first to let her know I was on my way to see her. If she said no, stay away, then I’d barge in on her. I went back to the same payphone and dialed her number. When she answered, I told her who I was. At first, she said that she wouldn’t talk to me about Gloria. I explained that I wouldn’t take much of her time. I just wanted to go over a few details concerning the comments she’d made to Sol and his men. When she heard that I’d flown all the way from California just to meet with her, Bonnie’s Midwest hospitality kicked in. With a slight hesitation in her voice, she agreed to see me. After missing a few turns and backtracking a bit, I spotted the remains of derelict piece of farm equipment leaning on the side of Highway 113. “Is that a manure-spreader?” I asked the farmer standing near the rusty hulk.
