going on here. I hate this. World, do you hear me? I hate this. I come out here to have a nice little vacation with my girl friend. Right? Yes, right. And what happens? She’s busy getting her brains screwed out by Sloppo Hugmeyer. She doesn’t want to see me. All right. I can deal with that.
What I cannot deal with is some gibboney of a would-be policeman trying to rough me up. I cannot deal with Lucius Belton getting cute with me. I came here to talk to somebody to try to get her to take some insurance money, for Christ’s sake, and here I am, almost arrested, harassed, having people keep whispering in my ear, murder, murder, and now I’ve got to follow that wherever it takes me.
I bet Kwash knew there was something fishy about this. I don’t trust him. Kwash, when I die, I’m going to leave you all my tapes so you can feel guilty about how miserable you made me in this life. Play this one over and over again, Kwash. I hate you, Walter Brackler. I’ve hated you since the first day you were smuggled into the country under Primo Carnera’s foreskin. I will always hate you. From the grave, Kwash, imprecations and abominations and curses upon you and your family, yea, even unto seven generations.
That’ll fix your ass.
I’m coming back to this. I have to get a drink first.
Okay, that’s better.
Two more tapes in the master file—and I had the insane naïveté to believe there wouldn’t even be a master file. Hah!
Tape Number One is Ben Spears, director of planning for Lucius Belton and Sons. He was Vernon Gillette’s nominal boss. But Gillette answered only to The Old Man. In capital letters. I bet they don’t call Belton that to his face. He’s seventy or something. You always call the commander The Old Man in capital letters when he’s a young man. When he really gets to be an old man, in small letters, then you call him The Chief or something like that. Maybe I will meet with him and call him The Old Man to his face. In both small and capital letters.
Anyway, Ben Spears didn’t like Vernon Gillette. He was jealous of him and his access to the boss. And Ben Spears doesn’t have any company insurance. Why did Gillette have it? Spears anyway confirmed what I thought. The Belton hunting cabin in the hills was a little love nest away from home. If Gillette was really murdered, count on it. It was by some broad that he conned into coming up there, and then she couldn’t get off.
"Excuse me, miss, do you have any books on female orgasms? Yes, sir. Come with me."
So I got Ben Spears on tape and I have Dr. Vincent Leonardo, who confirmed that Gillette was perfect in every way. Oooops, no. He had a scar on his right hand. He probably got it from trying to rub off the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. And Dr. Leonardo thinks that Louise Gillette is a bit of a screwball too. Everybody does. So did Ben Spears.
Leonardo did the autopsy. No heart trouble. No trouble of any kind judging from the physical they gave Gillette before he came to work at Belton and Sons.
Okay, that’s Tape One.
I apologize for the quality of Tape Two. It was made through the window of a car while Deputy Dawg was trying to browbeat me. I hate that ugly cop. I hated him on sight. First time ever. Not even you, Kwash, qualified for that honor, but this guy made it. I lust for the moment when I square things with him.
Deputy Dawg Harker, it seems, was sicced on me by Lucius Belton—first to follow me and then to stop me if I got close to Belton’s house. Why?
I don’t know why.
And how did Belton even know I was in town? Everybody talks around this damned town. I doubt if there’s a person left who doesn’t know who I am and what I want.
Maybe I’ll meet with Lucius Belton tomorrow and maybe I won’t. Let him call me, if he wants to. I may just stay around this town forever, annoying people, living in this room, looking up at that silly red dot on the chandelier and trying to exorcise the spirit of Sappo Muckenmire.
I
What I cannot deal with is some gibboney of a would-be policeman trying to rough me up. I cannot deal with Lucius Belton getting cute with me. I came here to talk to somebody to try to get her to take some insurance money, for Christ’s sake, and here I am, almost arrested, harassed, having people keep whispering in my ear, murder, murder, and now I’ve got to follow that wherever it takes me.
I bet Kwash knew there was something fishy about this. I don’t trust him. Kwash, when I die, I’m going to leave you all my tapes so you can feel guilty about how miserable you made me in this life. Play this one over and over again, Kwash. I hate you, Walter Brackler. I’ve hated you since the first day you were smuggled into the country under Primo Carnera’s foreskin. I will always hate you. From the grave, Kwash, imprecations and abominations and curses upon you and your family, yea, even unto seven generations.
That’ll fix your ass.
I’m coming back to this. I have to get a drink first.
Okay, that’s better.
Two more tapes in the master file—and I had the insane naïveté to believe there wouldn’t even be a master file. Hah!
Tape Number One is Ben Spears, director of planning for Lucius Belton and Sons. He was Vernon Gillette’s nominal boss. But Gillette answered only to The Old Man. In capital letters. I bet they don’t call Belton that to his face. He’s seventy or something. You always call the commander The Old Man in capital letters when he’s a young man. When he really gets to be an old man, in small letters, then you call him The Chief or something like that. Maybe I will meet with him and call him The Old Man to his face. In both small and capital letters.
Anyway, Ben Spears didn’t like Vernon Gillette. He was jealous of him and his access to the boss. And Ben Spears doesn’t have any company insurance. Why did Gillette have it? Spears anyway confirmed what I thought. The Belton hunting cabin in the hills was a little love nest away from home. If Gillette was really murdered, count on it. It was by some broad that he conned into coming up there, and then she couldn’t get off.
"Excuse me, miss, do you have any books on female orgasms? Yes, sir. Come with me."
So I got Ben Spears on tape and I have Dr. Vincent Leonardo, who confirmed that Gillette was perfect in every way. Oooops, no. He had a scar on his right hand. He probably got it from trying to rub off the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. And Dr. Leonardo thinks that Louise Gillette is a bit of a screwball too. Everybody does. So did Ben Spears.
Leonardo did the autopsy. No heart trouble. No trouble of any kind judging from the physical they gave Gillette before he came to work at Belton and Sons.
Okay, that’s Tape One.
I apologize for the quality of Tape Two. It was made through the window of a car while Deputy Dawg was trying to browbeat me. I hate that ugly cop. I hated him on sight. First time ever. Not even you, Kwash, qualified for that honor, but this guy made it. I lust for the moment when I square things with him.
Deputy Dawg Harker, it seems, was sicced on me by Lucius Belton—first to follow me and then to stop me if I got close to Belton’s house. Why?
I don’t know why.
And how did Belton even know I was in town? Everybody talks around this damned town. I doubt if there’s a person left who doesn’t know who I am and what I want.
Maybe I’ll meet with Lucius Belton tomorrow and maybe I won’t. Let him call me, if he wants to. I may just stay around this town forever, annoying people, living in this room, looking up at that silly red dot on the chandelier and trying to exorcise the spirit of Sappo Muckenmire.
I
Similar Books
