hire another Hawkshaw (pg.53) -- Slang for detective, probably from the comic strip Hawkshaw The Detective, by Gus Mager.
The trouble with being up and at 'em bright and early was once you were up most of the 'em you wanted to be at weren't out yet. (pg. 143)
"How come it takes you all that time to find the right donut?" I said. "They're all the same."
"No two donuts are alike," Chollo said. "You had Indio blood, you'd understand." -- pg. 192
On the other hand, I couldn't think of anything some donuts wouldn't help. -- pg. 206
Quem Quaeritis (pg. 41) --Quem Quaeritis? (literally, "Whom do you seek?") refers to four lines of the medieval Easter liturgy that later formed the kernel of the large body of medieval liturgical drama.
Dramaturge (pg. 41) -- A specialist in the art or technique of dramatic composition and theatrical representation.
Deracinated (pg. 70) -- To remove or separate from a native environment or culture; especially : to remove the racial or ethnic characteristics or influences from. Uprooted.
Chacun à son goût (pg. 191) -- Everyone to his taste.
It wasn't like talking to a dumb seventh grader, it was like talking to a pancake.
Scanlan took in some more smoke. I knew so few people who smoked anymore that it was kind of fascinating to watch him.
The 428 cc would really go if you stood on it. (pg. 246) I think that should be "ci", for cubic inch.
So, we don't have no air defense in Southern California to track down a C-47 Chinook helicopter carrying a million dollars worth of guns to Mexico? Good to know!
zocalo (pg. 5) -- A public square or plaza.
narcotraficantes (pg. 5) -- Well, NOW it looks obvious. Drug dealers.
Cyclone GT (pg. 243) -- Huh, it's a Mercury, 1970 vintage. Never heard of that model.
El Verdugo, which means The Executioner (pg. 268) -- Well, that's what it means, all right.
Miramar Navy Base (pg. 348) -- It's Marine Corps Air Station, and has been for nearly ten years before this book was published.
He'd seen old, and it looked like hell. (pg. 353)
Lupercio stood on his back patio and watched the tumbleweeds shiver against the chain-link fence. Beyond the fence a dirt devil augured across the desert floor, then spun itself out. The sun hung red and wavering and his outdoor thermometer read 104 degrees. (pg. 115)-- Good ol' Adelanto, just as I remember it!
I enjoyed this book very much, the San Diego locations rang true. There is so much sadness, though. Reading the author's biography, you see he has personal knowledge of extreme loss. It comes through in all the books of his I have read.
We make our own luck. Character is fate. (pg. 77)