Death of the Zanjero by Anne Louise Bannon

Bob’s eyes gleamed as the fish wound its way around its fellows. There was a fish tank in the window, filled with live cat fish, including one old monster big enough to feed three families. Neither of the above had caught Bob’s attention, though. It belonged to a restaurant, a mom and pop place trying to look trendy with hanging plants and a Cajun menu. He gazed through the window I’d just passed. What I object to is you calling yourself a magnet for violence.ĭumb luck, engineered for a Higher Purpose, which, my dear Brenner, is not to give you an excuse for tearing yourself down and avoiding commitments. Doesn’t it seem a little odd that since we’ve been friends, we’ve witnessed three armed robberies and a murder? His arm swung out and landed on my shoulders. You’d think I was complaining about a stapler that didn’t work instead of the violence that has dogged me for last twelve years of my life. My latest spill had Bob nodding sympathetically as he ambled along, hands in jeans pockets, with his green satin letterman jacket hanging over his elbow. We’d had a late dinner, and the sun was sinking into the ocean across the street, giving everything a warm orange glow. He has this nasty habit of getting me into utterly casual settings, where I’m off my guard, then turning my guts inside out.

Not the most auspicious atmosphere for heart-wrenching confessions, but that was Bob’s fault. We were strolling down Ocean Front Boulevard in Santa Monica. It started when they shot my father, I told Bob.

Tyger, Tyger is published by Healcroft House, Publishers, a subsidiary of Robin Goodfellow Enterprises, Altadena, California, United States of AmericaĬopyright 2015 Anne Louise Bannon, all rights reservedĮbook generated and distributed by Table of ContentsĬonnect with Anne Louise Bannon Dedication

Healcroft House, Publishers, Altadena, CA

Death of the Zanjero by Anne Louise Bannon