’ ‘Believe what you will, Christina,’ Starkey said. ‘It happens to be the truth. I get a phone call one day from the home office, they say ‘...se Paul Bayard in quicklime’. So I use him. I make it a point not to argue with the home office.’ ‘All right, Desmond,’ I said. ‘Thanks for nothing.’ ‘Any time, sweetheart,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And don’t be a stranger.’ We hung up. Just as I was about to dial the home office of amalgamated industries (located, appropriately enough, in Cleveland) the. * The man lay in bed next to the drunken girl he had picked up at the pub that night. Short and slightly dumpy, she had been easy to get stoned, happy to come back to his place and eager to let him screw her. She lay there her slightly saggy plump breasts flattened out as she lay on her back, dull brown short hair sticking out against the dark blue of the pillow behind her head, mascara slightly smudged. Getting up on his knees he told her to turn over and position herself on her knees doggy. More

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