The owner, whoeveryone called Uncle Owen even if they weren't related, looked andtalked something like Clint Eastwood in a Dirty Harry movie excepttha... he had a beard. He often wore a pistol in a hip holster, usuallyunloaded but it still fit the image of a frontier sheriff or somethinglike that. He even called himself the Sheriff of his little town,which consisted of the motel and nothing more.Owen's motel was fun for us k**s but Dad worried about us being arounda "kook" like the Sheriff. Owen. Drink,” pausing five seconds after stiff, looking at Eddie as she said the word.“Do you miss me?”“Of course I miss you darling,” she said, “I need to work on these details, I need to firm up my ideas.”I said goodbye and hung up, there was no point in trying to dream up any more risqué banter and give Eddie a chance of catching on. A minute layer a text came from Carol with a picture looking down at Eddie on his knees working on the belt. 'Check the thread' said the text. I could see the lock. More

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