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datatime: 2022-11-27 17:55:41 Author:CRNegDiG

Decker perked up. "So you know about Skink?"

She reached over and took his hand. "Don't worry about your weird friend, he'll find his way back to Harney."

Lanie came out, still dripping. Already the purple ligature bars were fading.

"He's a legend," Lanie said. She started unbuttoning Decker's shirt. "One rumor is he's a mass murderer from Oregon. Another says he's ex-CIA, helped kill Trujillo. One story goes he's hiding from the Warren Commission."

Decker had always been a sucker for fresh-out-of-the-shower women. With considerable effort he pushed ahead with purposeful conversation. "Dennis told you I was here."

"He mentioned it, yeah."

"What for? He's long gone."

"What else did he mention?"

"As long as he didn't hurt you."

"Just about Dickie and the tournament, that's all," Lanie said. She sat on the bed and crossed her legs. "What's with you? I came all this way and you act like I've got a disease."

"He's a legend," Lanie said. She started unbuttoning Decker's shirt. "One rumor is he's a mass murderer from Oregon. Another says he's ex-CIA, helped kill Trujillo. One story goes he's hiding from the Warren Commission."

"I could call the cops, you know."

"He didn't try to pork me, no," Lanie said, "and he didn't stick electrodes into my eyeballs, if that's what you mean. But he's still totally nuts."

Decker perked up. "So you know about Skink?"

"Ah." Moody Blues. The man was a child of the Sixties.

"I could call the cops, you know."

"Well, here we are," she said, a bit too brightly. "Another night, another motel. Decker, we're in a rut."

"He didn't try to pork me, no," Lanie said, "and he didn't stick electrodes into my eyeballs, if that's what you mean. But he's still totally nuts."

She reached over and took his hand. "Don't worry about your weird friend, he'll find his way back to Harney."

"Well, don't get too damn excited," she said, scowling. She wrapped herself in the towel.

"Those are first-rate," Decker said, but he had nothing more plausible to offer in the way of Skink theories. A bomber for the Weather Underground. Owsley's secret chemist. Lead singer for the Grass Roots. Take your pick.

"As long as he didn't hurt you."

"He didn't try to pork me, no," Lanie said, "and he didn't stick electrodes into my eyeballs, if that's what you mean. But he's still totally nuts."

"He'll be fine," Lanie said. "Put him on a highway and he'll eat his way home."

Decker was past the point of being surprised. "A song," he repeated. "Skink was singing?"

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