it's been pretty dull around here."
"I'm gonna kill him. G-g-g-g-gimme a double margarita, Edgar."
"What'd Prankster Frank do this time?" O. A. Jones asked Wingnut as he eyed a sagging mid-lifer from No-Blood Alley who'd look like a $6,000 facelift by 1:00 A . M .
"A sn-sn-snake!" Wingnut cried.
"He put a snake in your car?"
"My 1-1-1-locker," Wingnut said.
"That's going too far," O. A. Jones said. "Even for Prankster Frank. Was it a king snake? Don't tell me it was a rattler! I wouldn't believe that!"
"R-r-r-rubber," Wingnut Bates said, grabbing the margarita in both hands and gulping half of it down.
"O000000h, rubber! Well, that ain't too bad, Wingnut. That ain't so bad."
"I b-b-believe I'm gonna kill him," Wingnut said. "Jesus, I'm st-st-stuttering!"
"You sure are. Finish your drink, maybe you'll calm down."
"I believe!" Wingnut cried. "I believe I'm g-ggonna .. .
"What's that?" O. A. Jones cried out.
"Keep it down(" J. Edgar growled. "Only freaking rest I get around here is when I doze standing up. Like a freaking parakeet."
"I believe(" O. A. Jones said, running over to the jukebox, which was playing Green Eyes by Helen O'Connell. "I believe! Hey, Edgar, ain't that a song from your time? Ain't that one you used to have on this box?"
"What?"
" 'I Believe'! How's it go?"
Without removing his cigar or opening his eyes, J. Edgar Gomez sang, " 'I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower gr000000ws!' "
"Yeah, that's it!" O. A. Jones said.
" 'I believe that somewhere in the darkest night, a candle gl0000ws. ' "
"Okay, enough!" O. A. Jones said. "That's its Wingnut, that's it!"
"What's it?"
"The song I thought I heard the killer singing in the desert when I found that Watson kid fried in his car!" "You said it was 'Pretend.' "
" 'Pretend you're happy when you're bluuuuuue,' " J.
Edgar Gomez suddenly sang. "I just loved Nat King Cole."
"I thought it was 'Pretend,' "said O. A. Jones, bu t t he song never did sound right when the Palm Spring s d icks played it for me. I mean, I thought I heard the guy singing something about pretending. Now I think it was 'I Believe.' Yeah! I think that's it!"
"That ain't nothing like 'Pretend,' " J. Edgar Gomez said, finally opening his eyes. "You been drinking too much vodka. I told you whiskey's better for your head."
"I know it was something about 'believe,' " O. A. Jones said, wrinkling his brow.
"I can't believe this is so important," J. Edgar Gomez said. "And I wish you'd keep your voice quieter. Beavertail's nodding off. Might get by without a fight tonight."
" 'I Believe,' " O. A. Jones said. "Tomorrow I'm calling the Palm Springs dicks. I'm the only lead to the killer!"
"That don't seem like much of a clue to me," J. Edgar Gomez said, closing his eyes again.
"I'm calling them tomorrow," O. A. Jones said.
"I'm killing Prankster Frank Zamelli tomorrow," Wing-nut Bates said.
Chapter 6
FLOATING COFFINS
-DON'T LOOK FOR MERCY FROM THAT SON OF A BITCH," Otto Stringer said, referring to their captain. "He's the Cotton Mather of the cop world."
"I don't think we'll need mercy, Otto," Sidney Blackpool said. "Nobody's ever gonna know about the ten grand, and even if they do, it's expense money. No strings attached."
"The amount, Sidney. That's the string. In fact it's a rope. In fact it's a noose if our department ever hears about it."
"Nobody's gonna hear. Relax. Finish your tequila and tomato juice. How can you drink that stuff?"
"Like this," Otto Stringer said, stretched out at poolside on a lounge chair at dusk.
He guzzled the tall one and waved to a waitress with a gardenia in her hair who swayed over to poolside in a persimmon muumuu, Palm Springs being big on Hawaii and exotica in general.
"Another?" she smiled, making Otto deeply regret the big four-oh and sexual extinction.
"That was de-voon, dahling," Otto said, "but I think I'll try another kind."
"That's the fourth other kind you've had," Sidney Blackpool said. "Mixing is
"I'm gonna kill him. G-g-g-g-gimme a double margarita, Edgar."
"What'd Prankster Frank do this time?" O. A. Jones asked Wingnut as he eyed a sagging mid-lifer from No-Blood Alley who'd look like a $6,000 facelift by 1:00 A . M .
"A sn-sn-snake!" Wingnut cried.
"He put a snake in your car?"
"My 1-1-1-locker," Wingnut said.
"That's going too far," O. A. Jones said. "Even for Prankster Frank. Was it a king snake? Don't tell me it was a rattler! I wouldn't believe that!"
"R-r-r-rubber," Wingnut Bates said, grabbing the margarita in both hands and gulping half of it down.
"O000000h, rubber! Well, that ain't too bad, Wingnut. That ain't so bad."
"I b-b-believe I'm gonna kill him," Wingnut said. "Jesus, I'm st-st-stuttering!"
"You sure are. Finish your drink, maybe you'll calm down."
"I believe!" Wingnut cried. "I believe I'm g-ggonna .. .
"What's that?" O. A. Jones cried out.
"Keep it down(" J. Edgar growled. "Only freaking rest I get around here is when I doze standing up. Like a freaking parakeet."
"I believe(" O. A. Jones said, running over to the jukebox, which was playing Green Eyes by Helen O'Connell. "I believe! Hey, Edgar, ain't that a song from your time? Ain't that one you used to have on this box?"
"What?"
" 'I Believe'! How's it go?"
Without removing his cigar or opening his eyes, J. Edgar Gomez sang, " 'I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower gr000000ws!' "
"Yeah, that's it!" O. A. Jones said.
" 'I believe that somewhere in the darkest night, a candle gl0000ws. ' "
"Okay, enough!" O. A. Jones said. "That's its Wingnut, that's it!"
"What's it?"
"The song I thought I heard the killer singing in the desert when I found that Watson kid fried in his car!" "You said it was 'Pretend.' "
" 'Pretend you're happy when you're bluuuuuue,' " J.
Edgar Gomez suddenly sang. "I just loved Nat King Cole."
"I thought it was 'Pretend,' "said O. A. Jones, bu t t he song never did sound right when the Palm Spring s d icks played it for me. I mean, I thought I heard the guy singing something about pretending. Now I think it was 'I Believe.' Yeah! I think that's it!"
"That ain't nothing like 'Pretend,' " J. Edgar Gomez said, finally opening his eyes. "You been drinking too much vodka. I told you whiskey's better for your head."
"I know it was something about 'believe,' " O. A. Jones said, wrinkling his brow.
"I can't believe this is so important," J. Edgar Gomez said. "And I wish you'd keep your voice quieter. Beavertail's nodding off. Might get by without a fight tonight."
" 'I Believe,' " O. A. Jones said. "Tomorrow I'm calling the Palm Springs dicks. I'm the only lead to the killer!"
"That don't seem like much of a clue to me," J. Edgar Gomez said, closing his eyes again.
"I'm calling them tomorrow," O. A. Jones said.
"I'm killing Prankster Frank Zamelli tomorrow," Wing-nut Bates said.
Chapter 6
FLOATING COFFINS
-DON'T LOOK FOR MERCY FROM THAT SON OF A BITCH," Otto Stringer said, referring to their captain. "He's the Cotton Mather of the cop world."
"I don't think we'll need mercy, Otto," Sidney Blackpool said. "Nobody's ever gonna know about the ten grand, and even if they do, it's expense money. No strings attached."
"The amount, Sidney. That's the string. In fact it's a rope. In fact it's a noose if our department ever hears about it."
"Nobody's gonna hear. Relax. Finish your tequila and tomato juice. How can you drink that stuff?"
"Like this," Otto Stringer said, stretched out at poolside on a lounge chair at dusk.
He guzzled the tall one and waved to a waitress with a gardenia in her hair who swayed over to poolside in a persimmon muumuu, Palm Springs being big on Hawaii and exotica in general.
"Another?" she smiled, making Otto deeply regret the big four-oh and sexual extinction.
"That was de-voon, dahling," Otto said, "but I think I'll try another kind."
"That's the fourth other kind you've had," Sidney Blackpool said. "Mixing is
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