Free The Texas Twist by John Vorhaus Page B

understand? Whatever he proposes, decline politely and say goodbye. Con artists don’t like being unmasked. It hurts their pride, and then they can lash out. Keep what you know to yourself.”
    Sarah nodded her understanding and departed, but she left an odd, unpleasant mood in the room. Well, it happens from time to time. You rub up against a genuine innocent and see the dark side of your business model. Every grifter goes through it. You either harden your heart or find another line of work. Vic shook off the moment by sitting down torecord a bent, Mirplovian version of current events, right down to the fish to freeze.
    Radar cleared his disposition by downloading baby books, which made Allie chuckle indulgently. “You’re gonna obsess all over this, aren’t you?” she said.
    â€œWhy not?” said Radar. “I plan to be a thorough dad.”
    â€œThorough?”
    â€œThorough. Comprehensive. The whole package. Cognitive play. Changing diapers. Two a.m. feedings.…”
    â€œI think that might be my department.”
    â€œAnd I’ll be right there with you, babe. Sleep-deprived right along with you. They’re gonna say, ‘That Radar Hoverlander, he’s almost a mother.’”
    â€œThey say that now,” muttered Vic.
    â€œRadar, let’s not go overboard.”
    â€œFine, fine, have it your way. I’ll be an aloof and distant dad. Little Pandemonium will hardly even know me.”
    â€œPandemonium?”
    â€œOnly if it’s a boy. Pandemonium is no name for a girl.” His eyes went to a faraway place. “Although, Panda.…” He paused. “Panda Hoverlander?”
    â€œI don’t think so.” Allie turned to Vic. “Have you been writing these down?”
    Vic nodded. “So far I like Madrigal and Flintlock.”
    â€œOh, I so hope we have twins.”
    A few days later, Radar reported back on his reading and informed Allie that she was probably far enough along to expect to start getting cranky.
    â€œCranky? Why?”
    â€œIt’s genetic. Your DNA tells your hormones to makeyou disagreeable as a test of your mate’s loyalty. If he bails, you’re not so far along that you can’t land another one, but if he puts up with you at your worst, then you know you’ve got a keeper.”
    â€œRadar, do you know the phrase ‘critical thinking’?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œApply it to your reading.”
    â€œI’m just saying, if you become irritable I will totally understand.”
    â€œGo for a run,” snapped Allie.
    â€œSee? This is it!” crowed Radar. “This is the irritable!”
    â€œGo for a run,” she repeated, and Radar suddenly got it that he should go for a run.
    He crossed the Colorado River below the Tom Miller Dam and followed the Redbud Trail all the way out to Washington Hollow. The day wasn’t too cold, probably not much below fifty degrees, but the wind had some bite to it, and it buffeted Radar when he ran into it or across it as he wove his way through the West Hills, past the water treatment plant and the widely scattered ranch houses with their pools tarped over for the winter. Whenever Radar ran, he tried to empty his mind. He did this by focusing strictly on the visual, absorbing the passing landscape like cinematography. Today, though, he couldn’t get clear of the thought of himself tarred with Ames’s same brush. Radar always thought that, despite his avaricious aims, crossing paths with him wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a mark. At least he was good entertainment. Seen through Sarah’s eyes, though, he knew he was no different from Adam; no different, really, from any Spanish Prisoner practitioner or three-card monteman. During his entire life on the razzle he had built nothing, created nothing, helped no one. That’s why the money bugged him, he realized. There was no design behind it, no