Because ultimately Westlake was not this kind of writer, or that kind, not a crime writer, or a satirist, or a comedian.
If they were reading Westlake, they were having some serious fun—and the best fun in his novels is always unexpected.
The two reportedly were at Westlake Studios in Los Angeles when the melee occurred.
In the end, I decided that the wisest approach would be to simply let Westlake speak for himself.
She carried banners from her prep school (Westlake) and her college (Stanford).
The first of Richard's visitors at the Manor were Mr. and Mrs. Westlake.
Old Westlake fancied he heard a mocking "indeed" that followed.
He asked me if Mr. Westlake had been here and he seemed annoyed when I told him I had just seen him off on the train.
Old Westlake blushed to the roots of his close-cropped fair hair.
Mr. Westlake was expected home to-night, but had telegraphed to say that he would return in the morning.