The Iggy Chronicles, Volume 2 Read Free Page A

chasing tumbleweed, so I stayed put. Another tumbleweed went wafting by. Tumbleweed? How exciting! I was getting all set to jump out of the Porsche and show that tumbleweed what was what when another car rolled into the lot, and not just any old car but an enormous yellow SUV.
    â€œHere we go,” Bernie said.
    The yellow SUV parked beside the small red car, and Ric Teitelbaum got out. He hitched up his belt—hey! One of those concha belts, maybe the most glittering I’d ever seen. Wouldn’t it look nice on Bernie? I checked Bernie’s belt, saw he wasn’t wearing one, his blue jean belt loops empty. Meanwhile, Teitelbaum took out a key— click went the camera—and let himself into the same room Sherry Three Point O had entered, if Sherry Three Point O was indeed the name of the young woman. An odd name, but if Bernie said she was Sherry Three Point O that was that.
    Bernie checked his watch. “Six Cs, Chet, record time.” He was putting the camera back in the glove box when a shiny black sedan turned into the lot and parked at the far end, nose out, just like us. The dude at the wheel just sat there, also just like us.
    â€œCould it be?” Bernie said.
    Yes, a familiar-looking dude—you didn’t see sideburns like that every day. I was just about to place him when a member of the nation within rose into view on the passenger seat of the shiny black sedan, gazing around kind of blankly, like a napper emerging from a long spell of shut-eye. This particular napper had his upper lip stuck on one of his teeth in a way that twisted up his whole face, not the most appealing face to begin with.
    â€œMaxie Bonn,” Bernie said. “And what’s the name of his pal? Barko?”
    Yes, Barko. We came across each other from time to time, Maxie “Auto” Bonn and Barko being in the business. Once Barko had almost got up the nerve to challenge me. He was smarter than he looked.
    â€œWasn’t aware they worked this far south,” Bernie said. We sat where we were, in the shade. Maxie “Auto” Bonn and Barko sat where they were, in the sun. “If they’re working,” Bernie continued after a while. “But what else would they be doing?”
    I had no idea. All I knew was that neither of them looked our way, not once. Was that the way to run things in this line of work? I’m sure you know the answer to that one. Meanwhile, Maxie’s head was tilting down and down, until his chin rested on his chest.
    â€œEver think of them as a mirror image of us, big guy?”
    I most certainly did not. Barko yawned a huge yawn, finally freeing his upper lip and untwisting his face. He sank back down out of sight.
    â€œA funhouse mirror,” Bernie said, losing me completely. He took a picture of the small red car and the yellow SUV and was pointing the camera at the door Ric Teitelbaum and Sherry Three Point O had entered when it opened and Teitelbaum came hurrying out, fully dressed except for the concha belt. He strode red-faced over to Maxie’s car. Now was when Barko would spring into action, waking Maxie up at the very least. But no. Maxie slept on, Barko remaining out of sight.
    Teitelbaum went to Maxie’s side of the car, pounded on the roof. Maxie’s head jerked up and he looked around wildly. Barko rose slowly into view again, licked his muzzle.
    â€œGoddamn peeper!” Teitelbaum shouted. He glanced around, maybe saw us, and lowered his voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    Maxie said something unfriendly, but the wind had come up, and I couldn’t make out the words. Teitelbaum grabbed Maxie by the throat and said something even unfriendlier. Maxie raised both his empty hands nice and high and changed his tone completely. They had some chitchat. Bernie snapped some more pictures. Then Teitelbaum took out his wallet, counted out a wad of money, and kind of threw it at Maxie. Teitelbaum