couple of days.”
“What?”
“You heard me. We’ll have the case solved.”
“You said you don’t care about the business end of this enterprise?” He’d raised his voice and customers at the bar were watching.
“You’re the marketing manager, Mr. Lessor. You should care very much about the business end of this enterprise. That’s your other job,” he hesitated, “that you’re obviously not qualified for.”
James blinked. Trying to be cool, he’d played his hand without reading all the cards. But that’s James.
The gentleman pursed his lips, tapped his fingers on the bar, and stared at James. The big lady behind the bar strolled down to him.
“You want something else, bub?”
Clemens gave her a slow look. “Bub? That’s not my name. And no. The beer you served me was warm and tasted like piss. I assume any other drink you serve will taste equally foul.”
Her eyes grew wide, and even in the dim light I could see her face flush. “That’ll be two fifty,
bub
, and you are not welcome in this establishment again.”
He reached for his wallet, pulling out three ones. “Don’t worry. I would never have come here in the first place, except it seems to be the place where these two inept private investigators do most of their work.”
I thought it was an unfair comment. It was the first time either of us had ever set foot in the bar.
Clemens stood up and looked at me with a cold, hard glance.
“People who work for a carnival are private people. They don’t like folks snooping or looking into their affairs. I’ve seen these people take matters into their own hands, Mr. Lessor.”
“And your point is?”
“My point is, you’d be better off quitting. Right now. Quitting and going back to whatever little hole you and your friend crawled out of.”
James stood up, his eyes wide. I held my hand up, hoping he wouldn’t do something stupid.
“Someone paid a price last night, boys. In case you haven’t noticed. Someone who apparently knew too much. Kevin Cross was shot while relieving himself. Pretty nasty stuff.”
“Are you threatening us?” James was ready for some physical contact. And that scared me to death, because he lacked any physical prowess.
“Threatening you? This operation needs a
real
investigation. A
professional
detective agency. Boy, I’m giving you a warning. Don’t you understand?”
He finally blinked.
“When the carnies figure out that you’re investigating them, when they understand that an amateur duo like yourselves is bumbling around their domain, you’re liable to disappear. You boys are an accident waiting to happen.”
Giving his delivery just the right pause, he finished with, “Threatening you? Right now, with me giving you that information, I may be the best friend you have with this show.”
Clemens turned, and without a glance back, walked out of Harry’s Hideaway, pushing two patrons out of his way.
“James? We’re going to solve this case in the next couple of days?”
“Damn it, Skip, he was—”
“Telling us that we may be killed?”
“Sounded like that.”
“You think?”
He sat back down and stared at what was left of his beer. “Skip, I don’t really think that our lives are—”
I cut him off. “And what the hell was that bit about we already have a suspect?” I wasn’t certain that he was sane at this moment. “Are you out of your mind? What the hell was that all about?”
“Amigo, I wasn’t going to let him—”
“What kind of pressure are you putting on us?”
James was quiet, sipping on his beer, watching the game on TV but not really seeing anything at all. I could tell.
“James?”
He studied me for a moment.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“What’s so great about telling the truth? Try lying once in a while. It’s the currency of the world.”
“What?”
“The Marx Brothers.
A Day at the Races
.”
“James, did it ever occur to you that you use movie quotes to cover yourself? On a
“What?”
“You heard me. We’ll have the case solved.”
“You said you don’t care about the business end of this enterprise?” He’d raised his voice and customers at the bar were watching.
“You’re the marketing manager, Mr. Lessor. You should care very much about the business end of this enterprise. That’s your other job,” he hesitated, “that you’re obviously not qualified for.”
James blinked. Trying to be cool, he’d played his hand without reading all the cards. But that’s James.
The gentleman pursed his lips, tapped his fingers on the bar, and stared at James. The big lady behind the bar strolled down to him.
“You want something else, bub?”
Clemens gave her a slow look. “Bub? That’s not my name. And no. The beer you served me was warm and tasted like piss. I assume any other drink you serve will taste equally foul.”
Her eyes grew wide, and even in the dim light I could see her face flush. “That’ll be two fifty,
bub
, and you are not welcome in this establishment again.”
He reached for his wallet, pulling out three ones. “Don’t worry. I would never have come here in the first place, except it seems to be the place where these two inept private investigators do most of their work.”
I thought it was an unfair comment. It was the first time either of us had ever set foot in the bar.
Clemens stood up and looked at me with a cold, hard glance.
“People who work for a carnival are private people. They don’t like folks snooping or looking into their affairs. I’ve seen these people take matters into their own hands, Mr. Lessor.”
“And your point is?”
“My point is, you’d be better off quitting. Right now. Quitting and going back to whatever little hole you and your friend crawled out of.”
James stood up, his eyes wide. I held my hand up, hoping he wouldn’t do something stupid.
“Someone paid a price last night, boys. In case you haven’t noticed. Someone who apparently knew too much. Kevin Cross was shot while relieving himself. Pretty nasty stuff.”
“Are you threatening us?” James was ready for some physical contact. And that scared me to death, because he lacked any physical prowess.
“Threatening you? This operation needs a
real
investigation. A
professional
detective agency. Boy, I’m giving you a warning. Don’t you understand?”
He finally blinked.
“When the carnies figure out that you’re investigating them, when they understand that an amateur duo like yourselves is bumbling around their domain, you’re liable to disappear. You boys are an accident waiting to happen.”
Giving his delivery just the right pause, he finished with, “Threatening you? Right now, with me giving you that information, I may be the best friend you have with this show.”
Clemens turned, and without a glance back, walked out of Harry’s Hideaway, pushing two patrons out of his way.
“James? We’re going to solve this case in the next couple of days?”
“Damn it, Skip, he was—”
“Telling us that we may be killed?”
“Sounded like that.”
“You think?”
He sat back down and stared at what was left of his beer. “Skip, I don’t really think that our lives are—”
I cut him off. “And what the hell was that bit about we already have a suspect?” I wasn’t certain that he was sane at this moment. “Are you out of your mind? What the hell was that all about?”
“Amigo, I wasn’t going to let him—”
“What kind of pressure are you putting on us?”
James was quiet, sipping on his beer, watching the game on TV but not really seeing anything at all. I could tell.
“James?”
He studied me for a moment.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“What’s so great about telling the truth? Try lying once in a while. It’s the currency of the world.”
“What?”
“The Marx Brothers.
A Day at the Races
.”
“James, did it ever occur to you that you use movie quotes to cover yourself? On a
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