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369 pages, Hardcover
First published October 7, 2013
I wanted him to stop talking. The pistol and I were getting to know each other. I turned away from him and lifted the Mauser and settled the front of its barrel in the rear V-sight, with the head of a rose in the wallpaper as the target. All through last year’s little adventure in Mexico, I’d carried a Colt 1911. A fine but large weapon that was now at the bottom of the North Atlantic, a loss that only just now fully struck me. Too bad. But this covert, diminutive Mauser, with a .32-caliber kick, seemed just fine too. Like going to a lighter bat to get around on a Walter Johnson fastball. Very nice.
I lowered my arm.
I looked at Smith, who was looking at me with an expression that seemed part respect, part fear, and part distaste.