Damn. My head hurt. This can't happen again. Of course, I'd said the same thing the two other times someone had used my dome for a kettledrum. But this time I'd had it. Three years in the business with no trouble and now I'd suffered five attacks in the last six months. I wasn't taking any more of it.
I had squired Gustaf Mienke, a New York businessman reputed to have connections with crime syndicates, for a whirlwind week. Driving him around Dallas virtually wore me out. We visited, his choice of words, although few smiles witnessed our departure from at least a dozen places. Places and characters I might add that looked suspicious to say the least and I'd never been to or seen before. Finally, Gustaf left town and my life returned to something resembling normal, but not for long. A week later, I caught hell.