by Julie Smith
“Insurance? You mean that thing was insured?”
“In a manner of speaking. You ought to be getting a check within the week.”
“Hoo boy, insurance money! You know, I still haven’t found a job. Say, how much is it, anyway?”
“Well, I think it’ll tide you over awhile.”
“Oh, come on, how much?”
“Remember I said the manuscript might be worth more than a hundred thousand dollars? Well, I think the insurance will come to at least that.”
“No!”
“I’m pretty sure of it.”
“A hundred thousand dollars! Sara Sue— hey, Sara Sue, you hear that?”
He forgot I was on the line, but I heard from him again three days later. “Paul? Is that you? This is Clarence here.”
“Oh, hi, Clarence. Did your check come?”
“It shore did. I couldn’t b’leeve it. Why didn’t you tell me it was gon’ be so much money?”
“I wanted you to be surprised.”
“Well, I shore was. Two hundred and fifty big ones! Who’da ever thought Clarence and Sara Sue Jones were gon’ be so rich?”
“How much did you say?”
“You know how much. You knew all the time. Two hundred and fifty smackeroonies! Woooooeeeeee!”
“Congratulations, Clarence. Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“Well, I got to tithe, of course. And after that, I’m gon’ see me a lawyer, set up foundations for the kids’ education and everything. Maybe invest a little, buy Sara Sue a new weddin’ ring. She had to pawn her old one, you know.”
“That’s great, Clarence. Good luck to you.”
It should have been a very uplifting phone call, a real boost to the sagging spirit, a happy ending to a tawdry tale of human greed and degradation. Why did it have to remind me that some people are no damn good? I’ll tell you why: because some people are no damn good.
The End, Yours Truly Paul Mcdonald
Dedication
For Jon Carroll, Paul’s mentor
Acknowledgments
The author’s sincerest thanks to Bob Hirst and Michael Frank of the Bancroft Library, to Todd Axelrod of the American Museum of Historical Documents, and to my long-suffering Virginia City companions, Brian and Aliza Rood.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
HUCKLEBERRY FIEND was written in 1986 and first published a year later, a time of primitive phone communications. In those dark days, you had to ask people for their numbers, you had to use pay phones if you weren’t at home, you put up with all sorts of inconveniences you may have noticed in the book.
Also at that time, for all anyone knew, the original Huck Finn holograph— the part that wasn’t in the Buffalo library, was lost forever. I willed it into existence for my own purposes and also invented one other thing. Having no idea such a thing existed, I postulated for the book that Michelangelo might have made and worked from a small model for his statue of David that eventually fell into the hands of a collector of rare objects. Sure enough, that very object was found in 1986, giving me goose bumps.
But that was nothing compared to the frisson I experienced when the Huck Finn holograph was found!
When I wrote Huckleberry Fiend, the missing manuscript, unbeknownst to Twain scholars, was languishing in a trunk in someone’s attic— in other words lost in circumstances very much like the ones I imagined for the book.
My thought was that it would likely be in a piece of old Clemens furniture, but it turned out Clemens had actually sent the entire manuscript to the Buffalo library, whereupon a library benefactor, James Gluck, evidently took part of it home to read and possibly died before he returned it. Talk about slipping through the cracks! Once again life imitated art (or at least this book) when one of Gluck’s granddaughters found it in 1991 and gave it back to the library.
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We’ll give you your money back if you find as many as five errors. (That’s five verified errors— punctuation or spelling that leaves no room for judgment calls or alternatives.) If you find more than five, we’ll give you a dollar for every one you catch up to twenty. More than that and we reproof and remake the book. Email [email protected] and it shall be done!
If You Enjoyed This Book…
Get the first in the series
For more San Francisco mysteries by Julie Smith, try the Rebecca Schwartz mystery series
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The Paul Macdonald Series
TRUE-LIFE ADVENTURE
HUCKLEBERRY FIEND
Also by Julie Smith:
The Skip Langdon Series
(in order of publication)
NEW ORLEANS MOURNING
THE AXEMAN’S JAZZ
JAZZ FUNERAL
DEATH BEFORE FACEBOOK
(formerly NEW ORLEANS BEAT)
HOUSE OF BLUES
THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS
CRESCENT CITY CONNECTION
(formerly CRESCENT CITY KILL)
82 DESIRE
MEAN WOMAN BLUES
The Rebecca Schwartz Series
DEATH TURNS A TRICK
THE SOURDOUGH WARS
TOURIST TRAP
DEAD IN THE WATER
OTHER PEOPLE’S SKELETONS
The Talba Wallis Series
LOUISIANA HOTSHOT
LOUISIANA BIGSHOT
LOUISIANA LAMENT
P.I. ON A HOT TIN ROOF
As well as:
WRITING YOUR WAY: THE GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL TRACK
NEW ORLEANS NOIR (ed.)
And don’t miss ALWAYS OTHELLO, a Skip Langdon story, as well as the brand new short story, PRIVATE CHICK, which asks the question, “Is this country ready for a drag queen detective?” More info at www.booksbnimble.com.
A Respectful Request
We hope you enjoyed Huckleberry Fiend and wonder if you’d consider reviewing it on Goodreads, Amazon (http://amzn.to/12XllLt), or wherever you purchased it? The author would be most grateful. And if you’d like to see other forthcoming mysteries, let us keep you up-to-date. Sign up for our mailing list at www.booksbnimble.com.
About the Author
J.D. Smith is an itinerant righter-of-wrongs who began his post-graduate life as a smuggler of exotic birds in the jungles of Colombia. Because of his facility with languages, Harvard-trained erudition, and ability to think on his feet, he was recruited at an early age by the CIA, where he served his country heroically until a dust-up in Afghanistan permanently blew his cover.
After that, he played lead guitar in a rock band until he was able to mass a sufficient fortune to support his expansive lifestyle. He speaks seven languages, has unparalleled martial arts skills, is handy with a knife or other weapon (it would be unwise to try anything), and is always on hand when there’s trouble, much like Jack Reacher, from whom he’s barely discernible, except for being blessedly free of neuroses about possessions.
To the contrary, he owns many splendid domiciles, all hung with magnificent art collections, boasting fabled libraries, and stocked with fine foods and beverages. He is able to be on hand when he’s needed because he has a fabulous home practically everywhere. He especially wants all female readers to know that in the clothing department he’s much more Bond than Reacher and would actually rather refight the Battle of Tora Bora than wear any item of clothing, especially underwear, more than one day. His only regret is that in a parallel universe he leads a much tamer life as a mystery novelist with a similar name.
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