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No, you actually read that right.

*completely consumed by self-squee*

*is, additionally, SUCH a dork*

At the moment I have few thoughts on context, except that this is someplace near the beginning-ish. I think.



It was taking too long.

Veronica almost couldn't believe - could, but *almost* couldn't* - believe that she'd been talked into this. Normally she was the one who did the persuading. She talked people into things, not the other way 'round.

But here she stood, or crouched, more accurately, legs cramping, waiting for her "partner" to reappear.

She was remembering with vivid certainty the reasons why she usually blackmailed other people to do this sort of thing *for* her.

She still hadn't decided if she liked Shirley; she was smart, there was no arguing it. Veronica had done some checking. Before whatever had happened that had caused her sudden withdrawl, Shirley had been one of those take-as-many-credits-as-they'll-let-you, stay-up-late-in-the-library, read-six-books-at-once-and-remember-everything people. She had a tendency to get caught up explaining something and then find herself unable to stop talking until someone pointed out that she was the only one who understood most of what she was saying (Bo seemed used to it - he didn't even say anything, really, just tilted his head at her.) A rambler. Veronica respected that. She understood that.

But she was also a little scary. You'd never guess it from casual conversation, but spend five and a half hours in a car with someone watching a motel room window through binoculars and you learn things about a person. That, and she put off a "leave me alone or I'll destroy you" vibe that put Veronica's to shame. Once or twice, Shirley had gotten this look in her eyes that made Veronica nervous, because she'd seen it in the mirror before, or almost.

Idly, for about five seconds before the alarm suddenly started blaring, Veronica wondered just how much of what Molly Hardy had insinuated was true.

You spend enough time around bad guys, she thought, and you start to be able to see them before they know they're bad guys.

And Shirley had "If I have to," written all over her. At least, she had last night.

The dead man *had* been poisoned.

Shirley burst out the side door, a bundle under one arm, spotted Veronica, and grinned. "Know a good fence?" she said, throwing the bundle to Veronica, who caught it and peeled back a layer of blanket. She smiled up at Shirley.

"I know a great one," she said, and they dashed for the car. Veronica squealed the tires, just to add a little drama to the moment, as the man from the hotel room came running out, wearing one shoe and no shirt, his belt flapping like a football flag. He followed them for half a block and then gave up, panting, with an expression of panic that Veronica followed in the rearview mirror for half a block.

"I give it twelve hours," she said to Shirley, as they sped off into the night.

OMG now I REALLY need more Shirley Holmes. This is not FAIR. :(

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
calantha42
Oct. 28th, 2006 04:55 am (UTC)
This is awesome.

(Possibly posted from your computer...24 hours is a very long time to go without the internet.)
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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