by Earl Emerson
“You know, about dat Crowell thing. Well, I done it.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“What Crowell done …I thought about dat.”
Yes?
“I been tailin’ him. Tailed him all week. I tailed him to the airport dis afternoon. He had a ticket to Jamaica. When he was waitin’ for his plane, I tipped off the cops. He won’t get out on bail dis time.”
Edward Crowell was close enough to hear what I said, so I had to think twice before speaking. I had to think twice about the audaciousness of his brother, too, about the moxie it must have taken to try to skip the country so openly, so unselfconsciously. Or was it merely insolence? A grand disrespect for the police? For the law? And of course, he had almost beenright when he bragged he was going to get away scot-free. Had it not been for the work of a pair of interested freelancers, he would be jetting to a Caribbean isle this moment.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I jus’ diet think it was right for him to get away wid dat sort of scam. You know? ‘Sides, he gave me five grand to take you out.”
“Sounds like a cheap date.”
“You listening, man? Take you out? He give me five grand to kill you.”
“I heard.”
“Yeah. I already spent the money.”
“I thought you didn’t go in for that sort of work.”
“Are you going to earn it?”
Holder laughed deeply. “I told you, I don’t do that sort of gig.”
“Sure, that’s what you said. But you might have been fibbing.”
“I guess Crowell have to report me to the Better Business Bureau.” His laugh boomed out.
When I hung up, some clown with a plastic boutonniere squirted me in the eye. The roomful of guests laughed. The clown winked at me. Pilar giggled some more and hiked up her skirt. Edward Crowell, peering over his wire-rimmed spectacles, seemed to be more than mildly interested in what was under the maid’s skirt.
Over in the corner, Helga Iddins demonstrated dance steps for Clarice, and Clarice practiced them without realizing she was doing a stripper’s routine. Melissa and Burton were off in a corner, heads touching over their punch cups, murmuring and giving each other looks like spontaneous combustion. It was beginning to look as if the hot breath of time and separation was puffing some life into their marriage.
The birthday girl marched over, pulled on my thumbs and was whirled around into the air, gleefully chirping encouragement to her benefactor. The clown in the center of the room winked at me again. It isn’t often a clown with violet Elizabeth Taylor eyes winks at you that way. A guy could get used to it. A guy could grow to like it.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
