out of her.
If I can get her out. She doesn’t go out much. That’s what everybody says, including Adam Shapp—he’s her lawyer. She types him neat little notes. Probably on paper with puppies’ pictures on it.
So that’s the case, and if that wasn’t enough to make it a terrible day, that bandit, Eddie, wants fourteen thousand to fix the restaurant. And he’s trying to sell out himself. What a pain in the balls that is. Never do business in New Jersey. I should have learned that a long time ago.
I think I’m getting ripped off and every penny I have in the world, forty thousand, is in that place. I hate the restaurant business. Seventy-five percent of all new restaurants fail.
I’m going to apply for one of those grants that they give every year to big thinkers to give them a chance to do their work without having to worry about making a living.
The Japanese declare people national treasures and venerate them. For your information, Chico, even though you’re partly one of them, the Japanese won’t declare you a national treasure. Maybe the national treasury, you cheap thing, but not a treasure.
But why doesn’t America do that? Why doesn’t someone come up and give me money and say we know you’ve got a large and really important mind and we want you to brainstorm for the next five years without having to worry about making a living. The things I could invent with such freedom. The questions I could answer. I could find out how airport restaurants can turn bread into brown toast without ever getting it warm. I have this idea for a great new product. A combination mouthwash and after-shave; one big bottle to do both things. Travelers would go crazy for it.
More big questions. Why can’t you find a mailbox on the street outside the main New York City post office? Important questions, and I could answer them if I had the time.
Never mind. I’m plugging through on this case, Chico. My day will come and you are not going to share in it. Trust me.
Anyway, I think tomorrow I’m going to do some checking up on good old Hemmie Paddington and find out if there were any skeletons in the closet that might make his wife want to murder him. How I’ll prove that, though, I’ll never know.
And I won’t have much time tomorrow. It’s five A.M. now, maybe even later, and I’ve just finished making love to a beautiful redheaded woman and it was wonderful, Chico, wonderful. She told me she loved me. And I believe her.
Most people do, you know. Except for those who are cheap and tightfisted and think that anyone who’s nice to them is trying to borrow money.
I drank and smoked too much today. That’s the good news. Somehow I forgot to eat. I’ll think about that tomorrow.
It’s all your fault, Chico. If I do die in a fire, with or without underwear, and you get this tape, make sure the insurance company reimburses my estate for my expenses.
I did almost everything today by credit card, except tonight I spent a hundred and fifty dollars on cocktails with Elvira. You hear that, Chico? A hundred and a half. I spend money like water on people who deserve it.
And I guess I spent another fifty dollars on miscellaneous things. So make it two hundred dollars. Hell, round it off. Two-fifty. Deduct a dollar for the cheap ballpoint pens I stole today from the lawyer’s office. Two-forty-nine.
Chico, make sure my estate collects. But don’t go looking for any of it yourself, because I’m writing you out of my will. That’ll fix you.
Devlin Tracy signing off.
10
“Hi, Sarge. How goes it?”
“What’s wrong, son?”
“What do you mean what’s wrong? Does something have to be wrong for me to call my only father? How’s the private detecting business?”
“Not bad. I got a big industrial client who wants me to find out who’s stealing paper clips and I’m starting to get a few regular cases.”
“What’s a regular case?”
“You know, missing husbands, cheating wives, that kind of things.
If I can get her out. She doesn’t go out much. That’s what everybody says, including Adam Shapp—he’s her lawyer. She types him neat little notes. Probably on paper with puppies’ pictures on it.
So that’s the case, and if that wasn’t enough to make it a terrible day, that bandit, Eddie, wants fourteen thousand to fix the restaurant. And he’s trying to sell out himself. What a pain in the balls that is. Never do business in New Jersey. I should have learned that a long time ago.
I think I’m getting ripped off and every penny I have in the world, forty thousand, is in that place. I hate the restaurant business. Seventy-five percent of all new restaurants fail.
I’m going to apply for one of those grants that they give every year to big thinkers to give them a chance to do their work without having to worry about making a living.
The Japanese declare people national treasures and venerate them. For your information, Chico, even though you’re partly one of them, the Japanese won’t declare you a national treasure. Maybe the national treasury, you cheap thing, but not a treasure.
But why doesn’t America do that? Why doesn’t someone come up and give me money and say we know you’ve got a large and really important mind and we want you to brainstorm for the next five years without having to worry about making a living. The things I could invent with such freedom. The questions I could answer. I could find out how airport restaurants can turn bread into brown toast without ever getting it warm. I have this idea for a great new product. A combination mouthwash and after-shave; one big bottle to do both things. Travelers would go crazy for it.
More big questions. Why can’t you find a mailbox on the street outside the main New York City post office? Important questions, and I could answer them if I had the time.
Never mind. I’m plugging through on this case, Chico. My day will come and you are not going to share in it. Trust me.
Anyway, I think tomorrow I’m going to do some checking up on good old Hemmie Paddington and find out if there were any skeletons in the closet that might make his wife want to murder him. How I’ll prove that, though, I’ll never know.
And I won’t have much time tomorrow. It’s five A.M. now, maybe even later, and I’ve just finished making love to a beautiful redheaded woman and it was wonderful, Chico, wonderful. She told me she loved me. And I believe her.
Most people do, you know. Except for those who are cheap and tightfisted and think that anyone who’s nice to them is trying to borrow money.
I drank and smoked too much today. That’s the good news. Somehow I forgot to eat. I’ll think about that tomorrow.
It’s all your fault, Chico. If I do die in a fire, with or without underwear, and you get this tape, make sure the insurance company reimburses my estate for my expenses.
I did almost everything today by credit card, except tonight I spent a hundred and fifty dollars on cocktails with Elvira. You hear that, Chico? A hundred and a half. I spend money like water on people who deserve it.
And I guess I spent another fifty dollars on miscellaneous things. So make it two hundred dollars. Hell, round it off. Two-fifty. Deduct a dollar for the cheap ballpoint pens I stole today from the lawyer’s office. Two-forty-nine.
Chico, make sure my estate collects. But don’t go looking for any of it yourself, because I’m writing you out of my will. That’ll fix you.
Devlin Tracy signing off.
10
“Hi, Sarge. How goes it?”
“What’s wrong, son?”
“What do you mean what’s wrong? Does something have to be wrong for me to call my only father? How’s the private detecting business?”
“Not bad. I got a big industrial client who wants me to find out who’s stealing paper clips and I’m starting to get a few regular cases.”
“What’s a regular case?”
“You know, missing husbands, cheating wives, that kind of things.
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