A Song In The Dark by P. N. Elrod Page B

thoughthat was gradually healing. Barrett had been around since before the Revolutionary War, giving him a longer perspective on life, and he wasn’t above rubbing that in when he thought I needed reminding. Though our case with him was long over, I knew Escott kept in touch. Sometimes the mail would have an embossed envelope with Barrett’s distinctive old-fashioned handwriting on it. The fancy calligraphy was always made by a modern fountain pen, though, not a quill. He wasn’t the type to stand fixed in the past.
    I should take a lesson from him on that. An idea glimmered in the back of my mind about running off and visiting him and Emily for a week or so. It faded pretty quick. Until Gordy was on his feet I was stuck in Chicago; besides, I couldn’t leave Bobbi in the lurch to run Crymsyn by herself.
    Escott righted the little lamp; shards of bulb glass dropped from its miniature shade. He used a napkin to sweep the pieces into the ashtray. “You will recover, Jack. Just not tonight.”
    â€œTomorrow for sure, huh?”
    â€œOf course.”
    It was one hell of a lie, but heartening. I wanted to get through the rest of the evening without any more shakes. Laughing had helped. The back alleys in my head knew that, which was why I had Strome tuning the car radio to comedies. Even when I couldn’t summon the energy to laugh at the jokes, the desire was there. I wanted more. Unless I could pick up a second broadcast for the West Coast, it was past time to try finding other shows. The best stuff was usually on too early, since I was dead to the world until sunset. I wished there was a way of getting recordings of favorites so I could hear them later. Recording machines were pretty large and cost a fortune, but I did have space upstairs and money in the bank. It would be a legit businessexpense. Certainly Bobbi could find a use for it, maybe doing up sample records to send around to the local stations so they’d remember her name. The radio shows I wanted would use up a lot of record blanks, though, with only fifteen minutes for each side.
    â€œAnd that’s a lot of bucks to invest just so I can listen to Fibber McGee and Molly .”
    Escott stared. “I beg your pardon?”
    I realized he’d not been aboard my train of thought. “Nothing. I think I’m getting better.”
    â€œIf you say so.”
    â€œYou want another brandy? There should have been a waiter up here by now. We shorthanded?” I leaned forward for a look, but all the boys seemed to be at work.
    â€œNo, thank you. I told the fellow who tends this section that I did not want to be disturbed for the remainder of the evening unless I specifically signaled him. I had the idea that you might prefer some privacy once back from your errand with Strome. He was rather grim of visage when you two left.”
    â€œI didn’t know that you’d seen us.”
    â€œYes, I was just coming into the lobby as you went out front door, and it took a great deal of restraint on my part not to dash after to find out what was afoot.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you?”
    â€œYou actually appeared to be concerned about something. I wasn’t about to step into the middle of that. It was time you showed signs of life. Whatever the crisis, I thought it could only do you good to get out and deal with it. Perhaps slamming a few heads together would wake you up a bit.”
    â€œYou knew it’d be like that?”
    â€œGiven Strome’s place in the organization, he would onlyengage you in something really important, and given the nature of the organization itself, most crises tend to be of a violent nature. However, I would never have suspected Mr. Kroun’s direct involvement. I understand he’s rather high up in the ranks.”
    â€œYou know anything about him? Just in case he’s not sensible and tries to surprise me with a bullet.”
    Escott looked at his pipe as though