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?“Right on both counts,” I disclosed and held out my hand.
?His right arm stayed by his side, and he crossed over his body with his left to give my hand a quick shake.
?“Pardon the arm,” he explained. “Had a stroke a year ago. Still doesn’t operate quite the way it used to.”
?I nodded sympathetically. This explained his grimaces and misaimed eye.
?“You speak quite well, though.”
?“Got lucky there,” he clarified, and again grimaced in that rather frightening way. “Didn’t affect my speech at all. Can you beat that?”
?“Lucky,” I commented.
?“Yeah, but I had to leave my old occupation because of it.”
?“Really? What did you used to do?”
?“Security.”
?I smiled. “I was a security guard for a while.”
?“Yeah, I read that on one of your book jackets or something,” he said. “I wasn’t that kind.”
?“Oh?”
&n
bsp; ?His left hand mimed typing on a keyboard in midair. “Yeah, I was cyber security, software ’n stuff. Of course, now I focus on tobacco.”
?“Do you like it?”
?“Nothing but the best!” he said, and walked over to the display in front of me. “So, you gonna talk about Sherlock Holmes tonight?”
?“It is my area of expertise,” I insisted with a modest shrug.
?“Well, here, take that pipe with you.” The man gestured to the Calabash pipe.
?I picked it up and turned it over in my hand.
?“Well, I—I’m actually going to rebuke some of the standard ways Holmes has been portrayed in film.”
?“Perfect! That pipe can illustrate your point.”
?I glanced down at his name badge, which had a green background to signify that he was a merchant and bore the name John Stewart.
?“Wait,” I considered, “you want me to use your pipe to suggest Holmes would never use it? Isn't that bad for business?”
?“It’ll get the product right in their faces. I guarantee it will sell it. G’wan, take it.”
?I turned the pipe over again. It would indeed make a good prop.
?“Where do you want this, Stew?” a female voice announced.
?I turned to see an Amazonian woman approach with a plastic bin on her shoulder. She was at least six feet tall, though John still had an inch or two on her. But she was a striking and phenomenally well-put-together lady with curly, short, brunette hair. Her outfit was tight leather pants, a black tank top, and a leather vest that showed her amazing physique, as well as very developed arms.
?“Right back here is fine, Hypno,” Stewart told her, as he indicated one of the tables.
?“Hypno?” I questioned.
