This afternoon I got all gussied up and drove over to Houston's fabulous Murder by the Book, where I planned to attend a signing by Duane Swierczynski. But Duane wasn't there.
I don't know what happened to him, but of course I was disappointed. Not as disappointed as the ten or twelve hot chicks dressed like Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, though. Several of them were weeping openly. Between sobs, one of them said she'd had a "special surprise 'Duanie-poo,'" and she was devastated that he wasn't going to be there. I took her outside and comforted her as best I could, and then we went back in side and bought copies of this book. But not signed copies.