Read Online One Fine Day You're Gonna Die by Gail Bowen - Free Book Online

wore a real strange ring on her third finger, left hand. Like a cigar band, only colored metal.
    â€œRick Cooper.”
    â€œGary Cooper. Tall, dark and handsome.”
    â€œNo relation, ma’am.” Mama used to like that dude. Another good sign.
    â€œLooks like we both caught a break.
    Hop in. You drive,” she said.
    I tossed my duffel into the trunk beside her set of fancy luggage marked YSL . Maybe it was secondhand. Then I eased into the seat and took the leather-wrapped wheel. Daddy always said to keep your hands at ten and two. Looking at the gearshift, I did a double take.
    â€œWhat the hell’s that?”
    She gave a little pound to the dash as she laughed. “That’s the future, if you get old enough. A steel hip joint.”
    â€œI’ve seen custom, but this beats all.” I found first and juiced the gas. I went through all five gears, double-clutching at the top to show off.
    Some fierce stink filled the car. “Oh, Christ. Bucky’s awake.”
    â€œHuh?” I hadn’t seen a kid. She was a bit old for that.
    â€œIt’s my golden retriever in the backseat. You’d never know he was there unless he wakes up for a meal. Then he farts up a storm.”
    Turns out Bucky was fifteen, old for the breed and on the deaf side. She and her husband had him from a pup. Retrievers weren’t my thing. Didn’t see the point of them. German shepherds, maybe. Good guard dogs earned their keep.
    Her tiny hand reached out to adjust the air conditioner. Blue veins. Not so young then. Maybe a rough fifty or a prime sixty. That could work in my favor.
    â€œThe gear-shift was my late husband George’s. He had a hip replacement and a wicked sense of humor.”
    â€œUh-huh.” That explained the weird ring. Must’ve been a cheap bastard.
    â€œI do admire the car. She’s choice.” Fifty thousand miles on the odometer. Babied big-time for twenty years. “No rust neither. Saw your license. Don’t you have salt on the road up there?”
    â€œKept it covered up inside all winter. Too light in the rear for traction. We used it only for special trips. George had a sister in San Diego. We went down once a year.” Her voice took on a sad tone. “I’m… coming back from her funeral.”
    â€œSorry for your loss.”
    She shrugged and pooched out her lower lip. “She was eighty. When you gotta go…”
    â€œIt’s not bad to go in California.”
    â€œYou got that right. How’d you know that trick with the engine?” She reached into the backseat.
    â€œMy daddy purely loved Mustangs. The ’65 classic, and then the ’70 like this one: 351 Cleveland V-8 engine. Same color too. Christmas cars, he called ’em. Red, green, gold stripes.” I heard her rummaging around. A metallic clinking. My lips were chapped and I licked them. “Sure would be funny if it was the same one,” I said.
    â€œIn the movies maybe. George bought this new. Five thousand bucks.” She popped the cap off a can of Colt 45 and passed it over.
    â€œThat’ll hit the spot. Lots of snow up north?” I finished the brew in a couple of gulps.
    â€œWe don’t all live in igloos like Yanks think. But we plow and shovel plenty of the white stuff.” Next came a paper cup and a bottle of Smirnoff. She poured herself a generous slug and toasted me.

978-1-55469-367-2 $9.95 pb
    Can Walter Davis succeed when the odds are stacked against him?
    Walter Davis is young, handsome, intelligent and personable. He is also homeless. The medical expenses that came with his mother’s unsuccessful battle with cancer have left him destitute. When he meets the girl of his dreams, his situation gets even more complicated. Trying to impress a girlfriend when you have no fixed address proves difficult. And when he’s caught in a lie, she shuns his company. Only resilience, ingenuity and his drive to succeed