Day Twenty-One, Chapter Twenty-One
The children have spoken. Patterson has been named Author of the Year by the Children’s Book Council – as voted on by thousands of kids. When I woke up this morning, I believed the children were our future…
Jamespatterson.com: “Awards were based on fan voting, so, as you can see, James was pretty proud!”
Marcus Dowling opened his door and showed us to a sitting room decorated to the hilt with English-style roll-arm sofas, Flow Blue platters on the walls, and Foo dogs on the mantel. Mayfair meets the City on the Bay.
Where did all of those references come from? I bet James has a room in his own 20,000 square foot house that’s decorated exactly like that. (By the way, Wikipedia says that the “Foo dog” is “an ancient and rare breed of dog. It is not to be confused with the Chow Chow or Pekingese.”)
Conklin…is a sensational good cop to my badass bitch…
If you have to call yourself a “badass bitch”, you’re probably not a “badass bitch”. Prove it Lindsay! Show me somethin’! Anything! So far your partner’s done all the work here.
“Mr. Dowling, when was the last time you had intimate relations with your wife?”
Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Get right in his face, girl!
“Someone had sex with your wife.”
Alright, chill out. You don’t have to be such a badass bitch about it.
“Casey had sex with me!” Dowling shouted.
Mystery solved! Good work, detective.
“I took everything in the clothes hamper and whatever was on the hook behind the bathroom door,” Conklin said as we walked out to the car.
See you tomorrow.