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Back Dishonorable Intentions Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Stuart Woods
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. Author’s Note
  65. About the Author

“We’re having to put the saloon back together, using photographs to place everything correctly. We’re about an hour away from starting.”

“Tell the snake wrangler I want to see him. Now.”

“Right.” The AD trotted off toward the parking lot.

—

The snake wrangler was not amused to receive Tirov’s invitation. He locked his truck and stalked off toward where the trailers were parked.

Tirov had made some progress straightening his trailer when the snake wrangler knocked on the open door. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Are you missing any snakes?”

“Well, yeah. First of all, there’s the six-foot rattler I loaned—pardon me, sold to you. Then there’s another four-footer that’s missing.”

“Somebody put that one in my bed at the hotel. You have anything to do with that?”

“I did not. I found the back door to my truck unlocked yesterday, though, and Lizzie was missing.”

“Who’s Lizzie?”

“My four-foot rattler, the female. Did you get bit?”

“I did, spent the night in the hospital. You tell the security company I want a twenty-four-hour guard on your truck.”

“Is Lizzie okay?”

“How the hell would I know? I put her—it—on the terrace of my room before the ambulance got there. You might check with the hotel. And don’t you bill me for this one.”

“Which hotel?”

“La Fonda, suite 500. You seen anybody hanging around your truck?”

“Nope. The crew don’t park where I am. All I ever see is the folks getting on and off the tour bus.”

“All right, get out of here.”

The snake wrangler went gladly. He got out his cell phone, called La Fonda and asked for the manager.

“Yes?”

“My name is Simmons. I’m the animal wrangler on the movie being shot out at Bonanza Creek. I’m told you’ve got one of my snakes there.”

“Describe it.”

“Four-foot, diamondback rattler, female.”

“We’ve got one answering to that description, though I can’t vouch for the gender. We haven’t known what the hell to do with it.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour and take her off your hands.”

“We’d appreciate that. It’s in a burlap bag inside a cardboard box. It bit one of our guests, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he sued you. His name is Tirov.”

“Yeah, I just had a conversation with him. Somebody who doesn’t like him stole the rattler from my truck.”

“From what I know of him, there’s nobody who does like him. My staff were rooting for the rattlesnake.”

“I know how they feel. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Can you check the suite for any more snakes?”

“I’m only missing the one.”

“Thank God for that.” The manager hung up.

—