Can You Smooth That Out For Me A Little?
Lieutenant Cordell wasn’t happy to see me.
“I never should’ve allowed you to operate in the city of Los Angeles , with that Mickey Mouse license you flashed at me, so fast I could barely see what was on it. You say you’re from Boston? What the hell are you doing here?”
Either Cordell had an incredibly short memory or else he was bullying me for the sake of it.
“Sorry I didn’t bring my passport,” I said, arrogantly. “I kind of had the idea that we were all part of the same country.”
Continue reading “Whatever Happened to Yvonne LeDoux-Pt 6”
The address on the envelope was in the city, possibly Mapes’ last residence before his arrest and incarceration at San Quentin. It wasn’t sealed, the flap tucked inside. It was creased in the middle and folded in two, very neatly, and a short message was handwritten with one of those new fangled pens some guy in Argentina invented, name of Biro. The ink was smudged on the thin writing paper, but I could just make out these words:
Continue reading “Whatever Happened to Yvonne LeDoux? Part 4”