Good-bye, $10,000

After they had gone to get a beer, I just stood there for a few moments. There went my prospects for wealth. Good-bye, $10,000. That body in my refrigerator wasn't worth a penny now.

I walked out of the trees over to the monument dedicated to those who had fallen in the Spanish-American War. I felt as if I were one of them.

Oh, well, I still had five hundred bucks in my pocket.

I wouldn't be able to have all the things that I had envi­sioned like a fine office and a beautiful secretary and a good car, so I'd have to compromise. I'd have a small office, a plain secretary and a Model A.

I was standing by the monument, lost in thought, think-

ing about all of this when I was rudely surprised by the sudden appearance of four black men all carrying razors.

"Hi, Stew Meat," Smiley said, who was limping at the head of them. He had a tie wrapped around his leg just above the bullet hole.

Where in the hell did they come from?

"We thought we'd pick up our car and get a nice thank you for da loan of it," he said. Smiley had a huge smile on his face. He had something up the sleeve of that smile. "Also, Stew Meat. We need dat money in your pocket for expenses and don't reach for dat gun you shot me with or we cut you real bad, Stew Meat."

Ah, shit. I didn't care any more. Everything had gotten to be a little bit too much for me. I reached toward my pocket.

"Careful now," Smiley said, still smiling. "I sorta like you even if you did shoot me in the leg. Don't disappoint me now."

I very slowly reached in my pocket and took out the money. It was a nice roll: a few dreams. I flipped it to him.

"Good, Stew Meat," Smiley said.

He looked at the money.

"Five C's," he said.

"What about the girl's body?" I said. "Still want it?"

"Naa, you can have it, Stew Meat."

"What now?" I said, expecting some wear and tear on my body from the four black men. After all, I had shot their head man in the leg and I had stolen their car. Some people take offence at things like that.

"This is enough, Stew Meat. I like you," Smiley said. "We got da money. We got paid. The bullet didn't break the bone. Just went clean through. We leave you alone.

Bygones be da bygones."

"You're OK, Smiley," I said. "How's your barbecue?" "Da best," Smiley smiled. "Stop by. I'll give you some

ribs. On the house." And off they went.

It's Midnight. It's Dark.

I was standing beside the monument to the fallen of the Spanish-American War, alone again, having watched my little office, plain secretary and Model A vanish into thin air.

Thank God I still had a wonderful office with a sunken marble bath, the most beautiful woman in the world, and a golden chariot in Babylon.

That was the consolation prize.

"Son!" I heard a voice yell coming toward me from behind some tombstones. "Son!" I recognized the voice. It was my mother. She came hurrying up to me, almost out of breath.

"What are you doing here?" I said in a numb voice.

"You know this is the day I always visit the father and husband you murdered. You know that. Why do you ask that?"

"It's midnight," I said. "It's dark"

"I know that," she said. "But do the dead know that? No, they don't. I just stayed a little longer than usual. But why are you here? You never visit your father any more."

"It's a long story."

"Are you still being that private detective, chasing people with bad shadows? When are you going to pay the money you owe me? You bastard!"

Sometimes Mother liked to call me a bastard.

I was used to it.

"Now that you're here, go say something to the man you murdered. Ask him forgiveness," she said, marching me over to his grave.

I stood there in front of his grave, wishing at the age of four I hadn't thrown a red rubber ball out into the street while playing with him on a Sunday afternoon in 1918 and he hadn't run after it, right into the front of a car and stuck to the grill. The undertaker had to peel him off.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I said.

"You should be," my mother said. "What a naughty boy. Your daddy's probably a skeleton now."

Good Luck

My mother and I walked back across the cemetery to the other side where her car was parked.

We didn't say anything as we walked along.

That was good.

It gave me some time to think about Babylon. I picked up where I left off in my serial Smith Smith Versus the Shadow Robots. After I'd finished talking to the good Dr. Francis, I gave my secretary a passionate kiss on the mouth.

"What's that for?" she said, a little breathless afterward.

"Good luck," I said.

"Whatever happened to the good old rabbit's foot?" she said.

I took a long lustful look at her moist delicious mouth.

"Are you kidding?" I said.

"I guess not," she said. "If that's replaced rabbits' feet for luck, I want some more."

"Sorry, babe," I said. "But I've got work to do. Somebody has invented mercury crystals."

"Oh, no," she said, the expression on her face changing to apprehension.

I put my sword shoulder holster on underneath my toga.

"Watch out, son!" my mother said as I almost walked straight into an open, freshly-dug grave. Her voice jerked me back from Babylon like pulling a tooth out of my mouth without any Novocaine.

I avoided the grave.

"Be careful," she said. "Or I'll have to visit both of you out here. That would make Friday a very crowded day for me."

"OK, Mom, I'll watch my step."

I had to, seeing that I was right back where I started, the only difference being that when I woke up this morning, I didn't have a dead body in my refrigerator.

THE END

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14