Randall #02 - Ghost Writers In The Sky - Plot & Excerpts
Jonathan, either. I tried not to look as paranoid as I felt, although it was hard with the awful suspicions of Rick bouncing around in my brain. The inside of the place was almost too wild-west to be true. Entering its scruffy, pine-paneled barroom felt like walking into an old movie. But I could see that the cowboys at the bar were the real thing—as real as the whiff of stable-droppings coming from the boots of the red-faced cowboy zeroing in on Donna. I could see why Jonathan might be attracted to the place. Besides authentic western charm, and of course, the booze, its ceiling was pasted all over with money—mostly dollar bills, but also British pounds, Japanese yen, and obsolete European currency. What fastened them to the old wooden ceiling was something I probably did not want to know. “I can’t see Jonathan in the bar,” Donna said, abandoning her odiferous admirer. “But he might be in the dance hall.” She pointed at a glass-windowed door which led to a bigger room, where patrons sat at small tables around a dance floor.
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