A Mick Murphy Mystery

Tijuana Weekend

When I first came to Tijuana, Mexico, more than 20 years ago, it was a sleepy border town, minutes from San Diego, California, where liquor was cheap and women plentiful. Dirt streets, dusty with summer breezes or impassable from winter rains, were everywhere. A few main streets were paved, but not to American standards.

You entered most places free, but a bribe usually passed onto someone in a uniform when you tried to leave, a lot drunker than when you arrived and a little less horny, if you'd been lucky.

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Michael Haskins