Title: A Catskill Eagle
Author(s): Robert B. Parker
Publisher(s): Dell
Pages: 384
Year: 1986
Format: MOBY
Language: English
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The random article:
The three of us went into the diner. There was a long counter opposite the door and along the right wall four booths. In the back booth two men sat with thick white china mugs in front of them. The wall behind the counter was mirrored and two large coffee urns loomed at each end. On the counter there were slices of pie in glass cases, and muffins, and plates of donuts. We went to the back booth and slipped in opposite the two men. I knew one of them slightly, McKinnon, an FBI agent. Both of them wore gaberdine raincoats although it was sunny and not very cold. A very fat middleaged woman with dark skin and a mole on her chin came to take our order. I ordered black coffee. Quirk ordered two black, one to go. Hawk ordered hot chocolate and a double order of French toast. The two feds accepted a refill on the coffee. The waitress brought everything except Hawk’s French toast. Quirk took the black coffee to go out to the car and gave it to Belson, then he came back in. Nobody said anything while he was gone. He came back in and sat down and picked up his mug and sipped the coffee. He looked at Hawk. “French fucking toast?” he said.
“I give you a bite when it comes,” Hawk said.
McKinnon said, “McKinnon, FBI. This is Ives.” Ives looked like a salt cod. He was lean and weathered and gray-haired. His raincoat was open and under it I could see a green bow tie with little pink pigs on it.
“I’m with the three-letter agency,” he said.
“You with the Tennessee Valley Authority,” I said. “Well damn, I always wanted to meet someone like you. TVA is my favorite.”
“Not TVA,” Ives said.
“He’s with the fucking CIA,” Quirk said. When Quirk said the sacred letters Ives looked uncomfortable, like he was fighting the impulse to turn his coat collar up.
He said, “Let’s not broadcast it, Lieutenant.”
Hawk said in a full voice, “Broadcast what?” and Quirk looked away trying not to smile.
McKinnon said, “Come on, we know you’re both funnier than a case of the clap. You’ve proved it, now let’s move on.”
“We are trying to pursue this informally,” Ives said. “We don’t need to. I can have Lieutenant Quirk place you under arrest and the discussion can be held more formally.”
Quirk looked carefully at Ives and spoke very distinctly. “You can’t have Lieutenant Quirk do anything at all, Ives. The closest you can come is to ask.”
“Aw, Jesus Christ, Marty,” McKinnon said. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t just talk business here and stop fucking around.”
The fat waitress appeared with a huge platter of French toast and a pitcher of syrup.
“Who gets the toast,” she said.
“Here,” Hawk said.
The waitress put the food down and went away. “Be hard,” I said, “for anyone to distinguish you from the rest of us.”
“Yeah,” Hawk said. “Me and four honkies, how could she remember?”
“That’s real progress, I should think,” Ives said.
“That someone confuse me with you?” Hawk said.
Ives cleared his throat. “Let’s begin again,” he said. “We may be in a position to trade marbles.”