I walked into the house and was greeted joyously by my pooch, B.C. She's a mix between a black Lab and a golden retriever, and looks like a golden dipped in ink. Someone had dropped her off as a stray pup, and although I'd never really considered owning a dog, just couldn't bear to send her to the pound.So, against my better judgment, I took her home, and we'd been fast friends for the last three years. She looked like a little black bear cub when she was a pup, hence the B.C. moniker.
After she'd finished slobbering over me, and I'd let her out in the yard to pee and got her fed, I sat down to have a drink and watch the tail end of Tom Snyder's show. A double shot of Knob Creek on the rocks, an interesting guest on Snyder's show, my faithful hound curled up next to my chair, and all was right with the world. The annoying events of the evening began to fade into insignificance as the bourbon took hold.
After a while I nodded off, then was jolted back to consciousness when the dog started barking. I could see headlights shining in my driveway, and B.C.went into guard dog mode by raising hell and trying to sound fierce.
I looked at the clock on the wall- 1:30. Either I was getting a very late visitor, or a really inept burglar was getting ready to make an entrance.
I looked through the curtains, and saw a dark pick-up sitting in the drive, engine running, lights on, but no one apparently getting out. Could just be someone at the wrong address, a confused drunk, or kids screwing around. I decided to adopt a wait-and-see attitude. I told the dog to be quiet, which she reluctantly agreed to, and waited and saw.
The passenger-side door opened, and when the interior light went on, I saw two women inside. Linda was getting out, and a dark-haired woman I didn't recognize was talking to her as she got out. Linda closed the door, the domelight went out, and she headed for my front door.
As she walked around the front of the pick-up, the driver's door opened,and I could see that the other person was Sylvia Ramis, wife of my buddy, the diplomatic E.R. doc. Sylvia got out, and stopped Linda before she could get to my door. She grabbed at Linda's arm, apparently to try and stop her, but Linda shook her off, and broke into a run.
As she approached my front door, I opened it. Sylvia got back into the truck, backed out quickly and took off down the street. Linda hurried up to the door, and as she got closer I could tell she'd been crying.
"Cheese, I know I've got some explaining to do. Can I come in. Please?"
"Uh, sure Linda. Come on in. Don't mind the dog- she's just pretendingto be a hard ass. She's really friendly."
B.C. wagged her tail, and as usual with all guests, jammed her nose into Linda's crotch. Try to teach a dog manners, and this is what you get.
"B.C.! Get away from her! Sorry about that Linda- she's just happy to see you."
"That's okay Cheese. She probably just smells my dog. I'm used to being nuzzled."
Linda petted the dog on the head, scratched her behind the ears, and made a friend for life.
"Cheese, I'm really sorry for all the trouble I've caused tonight. If you'll give me a chance, I think I can explain everything. I really need some help, and I couldn't think of anyone else to turn to. Do you have time now, or is it too late? I can come back tomorrow if that'd be more convenient."
"No, no problem. Come on in."
I almost asked her if she wanted a drink, then in a rare moment of discretion thought better of it. A guy my age plying a young lady with liquorat this hour just didn't seem like a good idea.
"Would you like a cup of coffee or something? It's no trouble to make some."
"No thanks, Cheese. I just need to talk. Is that okay?"
"Sure. Have a seat. What's up?"
"Well, this might sound strange, but, how much do you know about my dad?"
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