He opened it to find her standing there, smiling and stark-naked, except for the bouquet of roses she held in front of her. When the noise came again, he sat up, remembering that he had returned to the shoe shop and that the noise had to be Patch or Skink instead. Slipping on his prosthesis and clothes, he opened the door to find Patch busy nailing new heels onto a pair of engineer boots. Patch looked up from his work. “Benny Hoffsteader bought these engineer boots in the city. Now he thinks he’s a goddang motorcycle rider. Truth is he ain’t nothing but the garbage man and a damn sorry one at that.” “We all have our illusions,” Hook said, searching out the coffeepot. “How’d that talk go with the sheriff?” Patch asked. “You mean you don’t know?” “Well I know the sheriff,” he said. “I’d as soon call out the quilting club if serious trouble set in.” Hook pulled up to the workbench and sipped his coffee. “You got a newspaper around here, Patch?” “Over there,”
What do You think about The Hanging Of Samuel Ash?
