Flat crazy, p.30
Flat Crazy,
p.30
Herzog pulled his trashcan from under his desk and neatly launched his breakfast. Kimberly Clark. Now he got the joke.
“What do you want?” the senator croaked, with much more sincerity this time.
Late Sunday afternoon. Annie and Horace Norris, retirees who proudly hailed from Madison, Wisconsin, had just left the Snake Farm & Indian Artifact Showplace (an attraction they had found rather odd, to be honest), when they spotted the drunk driver.
“No doubt about it, the guy’s smashed,” Horace growled, stooped over the wheel of his Winnebago, heading north on Highway 281 toward Johnson City, Texas. “A regular menace, that’s what he is.”
“Oh, dear,” replied Annie, his wife of forty-six years.
Horace didn’t like it. No sir, he didn’t like it one bit. It was hard enough to maneuver his RV in a safe and prudent manner under ordinary circumstances, but when you had to share the road with a drunk driver, well, that was entirely unacceptable. He hadn’t survived four decades in the dog-eat-dog world of actuarial analysis to be killed by some hotshot in a flashy red Corvette. Looked brand-new, judging by the temporary dealer plate in the rear window.
“This fruitcake is all over the road,” Horace grumbled. And the sports car was, too—floating from lane to lane, forty yards ahead of the Winnebago’s massive front grille. He glanced down at his speedometer, which was sitting on 30. A measly thirty miles per hour. Horace couldn’t believe it. Not only was this joker weaving, he was doing it at roughly the same velocity at which Horace could break wind.
Horace had seen enough.
“Climb back there and grab the video camera,” he said. “I wanna get some tape of this guy.”
Annie was perplexed. “Why … what for?”
“To show to the cops!” Horace barked. “I’ll flag one down if I have to. Show him what kind of lunatics are using the roads nowadays. Evidence, that’s what for!”
Annie unbuckled (she never sat in the front seat without buckling up), and as she made her way toward the rear of the vehicle, Horace continued to rant. “In all my sixty-six years,” Horace proclaimed, “I’ve never seen a guy drive like this. But come to Texas and what do we get? A friggin’ demolition derby. Well, we may not be Texas taxpayers, but we pay our federal taxes, for Chrissakes. And since this is a U.S. highway, we got our rights! We have a right to be safe on our freeway system!”
“Oh, dear,” Annie murmured again, opening a storage compartment above the Formica-topped dinette.
Horace was good and angry, boiling really, now a mere twenty yards behind the Corvette, breaking his own strict tailgating rule. He wanted the driver to notice him back here and know that his appalling behavior wasn’t going unobserved. “What we'll do—you find that camera yet?—what we’ll do is stop at a pay phone and report this nutcase. Show him what’s what, this guy. And when the cops pull him over, we’ll—”
Horace’s train of thought was interrupted by movement in the Corvette. Until then, Horace had seen only one occupant in the car. But now a woman’s head popped up—from the driver’s lap— and she returned to her place on the passenger’s side. She appeared to dab her lips with a tissue and then buckle her seatbelt.
Horace couldn’t believe his eyes. The man driving the Corvette wasn’t drunk at all. No, sir. Horace knew exactly what was going on. Hanky panky! On the open highway! Right in front of Annie, for God’s sake!
Horace was shocked. He was outraged. He was envious.
The driver, finally glancing in the rearview, gave a small wave to Horace out the window, then goosed the vehicle up to highway speed, leaving the Winnebago behind.
Horace could only watch it disappear on the horizon.
“Here’s the camera,” Annie said, returning to her seat and buckling in. She glanced out the windshield. “Wha—where did he go?” She looked over at her husband. “Horace?”
“Never mind,” Horace mumbled.
The Complete Series of Blanco County Mysteries.
Available now, or coming soon, in ebook format.
Buck Fever
Bone Dry
Flat Crazy
Guilt Trip
Gun Shy
Holy Moly
For more information, visit www.benrehder.com.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Epilogue
About the Author
Free Preview: Excerpt from “Guilt Trip” by Ben Rehder
The Complete Series of Blanco County Mysteries
Ben Rehder, Flat Crazy
