14

 

The next day I was back at Red’s bookstore. I was on the Celine case again. The racetrack was closed and it was a cloudy day. Red was marking up the prices on some rare items.

“How about Musso’s?” he asked.

“I can’t, Red. I seem to be eating all the time. Look at me.”

I pulled back my coat. My gut was pushing out through my shirt. A button had popped off.

“You better get that fat sucked out. You’ll have a heart attack. They suck the fat out through a tube. You can put it in a jar and look at it, it’ll remind you to lay off the jelly donuts.”

“I’ll think about it. You want some grapefruit?”

“Grapefruit? That’s not fattening.”

“I know but I fell over one when I got up this morning, they’re dangerous.”

“Where’d you sleep, in the refrigerator?”

I sighed.

“Look, let’s change the subject. You know this guy who looks like Celine?”

“Oh, him…”

“Him. He been in lately?”

“Not since you were here. You trailing this bird?”

“You might say so.”

Then, just like that, he walked in. Celine.

He slid past us and went down the aisle and plucked up a book.

I walked over close to him. Real close. He had the signed copy of As I Lay Dying. Then he noticed me.

“In the old days,” he said, “writers’ lives were more interesting than their writing. Now-a-days neither the lives nor the writing is interesting.”

He slid Faulkner back into place.

“You live around here?” I asked.

“Maybe. How about you?”

“You once had a French accent, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Maybe. How about you?”

“Oh, nothing like that. Listen, did anybody ever tell you that you resembled somebody else?”

“We all, more or less, resemble somebody else. Look, do you have a cigarette?”

“Of course.”

I dug for my pack.

“Please,” he said, “take one and light it, smoke it. It will keep you busy.”

He began to walk away.

I lit my cigarette, took a drag. Then I followed him. I gave Red a goodbye nod, then stepped into the street. Just in time to see him get into an ‘89 Fiat at the curb. And who was parked right behind him? My Bug was parked right behind him. What luck! Talk about fornicating the odds! First time I had found curb parking in months! I leaped in, gunned out and followed him.

He went east down Hollywood Boulevard.

Lady Death, I thought, watch me, at your service.

Then I almost lost him at the next signal, but I sliced through the beginning of a red light. No problem except for a little old lady in a Caddy who called me a dirty name. I smiled.

Soon Celine and I were on the Hollywood Freeway as the sun burned through the clouds. I kept Celine in my sights. I felt good. Maybe I’d get the fat sucked out through a tube. I was still a young man. My life was before me.

Then Celine was on the Harbor Freeway.

Then he was on the Santa Monica.

Then he was on the San Diego. South.

Then Celine took a turnoff and I followed him along. The territory seemed to look familiar. I followed along about half a block back. I hoped he wasn’t checking his rear view too much.

Then I saw him slow, pull over and stop. I slid over to the curb, parked and watched.

He got out of his car and walked down a few houses, then he crossed the street while looking over his shoulder. He stopped, looked around again, then went up a walkway to this house. He stepped onto the porch, looked around and knocked. It was a large house and had a familiar look.

The door opened and Celine went inside.

I pulled away from the curb and slowly drove by. It was Jack Bass’s place. Say that real fast. It was only 2:30 p.m. Cindy’s red Mercedes was parked in the drive.

I circled the block and parked at my old spot.

I was going to kill two birds with one stone. I was going to uncover Celine and I was going to nail Cindy’s ass.

I’d give them some time. Ten minutes.

When I was in grammar school we had a lady teacher who asked us, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And almost all the boys said they wanted to be firemen. That was dumb, you could get burned. A few guys said they wanted to be doctors or lawyers but nobody said, “I want to be a detective.” And now, here I was one. Oh, when she came to me I said, “I dunno…”

The ten minutes were up. I grabbed my mini-camcorder, kicked the car door open and moved toward the house. I felt myself trembling a bit, inhaled deeply and stepped up to the door. The door lock was no problem. Within 45 seconds I was inside.

I walked down the hall, then I heard voices. I walked up to a door. They were in there. I heard their voices. Their tones were low. I pressed forward and listened.

I heard Celine.

“You need this…you know it…”

“I…” I heard Cindy, “I’m not sure…Suppose Jack finds out?”

“He’ll never know…”

“Jack is a violent man…”

“He’ll never know. This is for your own good…”

Cindy laughed.

“My good…? Won’t you get anything out of it?”

“Of course…Here, here, look, take this in your hand…It’s a beginning…”

I waited a few seconds, then I kicked the door open and swung in there with my camcorder. I had it on and focused.

They were sitting over a coffee table and Cindy appeared to be signing some papers. She looked up and screamed.

“Oh shit,” I said.

I lowered the camcorder.

“What the hell is this?” Celine asked. “You know this guy?”

“I never saw him before!”

“I have,” said Celine. “He hangs around this bookstore asking me stupid questions.”

“I’m going to call the police!” Cindy said.

“Hold it,” I said, “I can explain everything!”

“It better be good,” said Cindy.

“It better,” said Celine.

I couldn’t think of anything. I just stood there.

“I’m going to call the police,” said Cindy, “now!”

“Hold it,” I said. “Your husband, Jack Bass, he hired me. I’m a dick.”

“Hired you? For what?”

“To nail your ass.”

“To nail my ass?”

“Yes.”

“I was just trying to sell this lady some insurance,” said Celine, “and you come busting in here with your camera.”

“I’m sorry, it was an error. Please allow me to rectify it.”

“How the hell are you going to rectify this?” asked Celine.

“I don’t know right now. I’m terribly sorry. I’ll find something to make all this better. Really.”

“This guy is some kind of jerk,” said Cindy, “a mental case!”

“I’m sorry. But I’m going to leave now. I’ll contact you about everything.”

“We’re going to turn you over to the police!” stated Cindy.

“I must be leaving,” I said.

“Oh, no!” said Cindy, “you’re not going anywhere!”

She hit a buzzer as I turned to move out through the door. But there stood a reasonable facsimile of King Kong. He was monstrous. He moved slowly toward me.

“Hey, boy,” I asked him, “do you like candy?”

“Punk,” he said, “you’re my candy!”

“How about some toys? What kinda toys you like?”

King Kong ignored that. He turned to Cindy.

“You want me to kill him?”

“No, Brewster, just fix him so he can’t move around so well for a while.”

“O.k.”

He moved toward me.

“Brewster,” I said, “who did you vote for President?”

“Huh?”

He stopped to think.

I took the mini-camcorder and hurled it straight at his playground. It slammed in on target. He bent over, grabbed his privates.

I ran forward, picked up the camcorder and brought it down on the back of his neck. I heard glass breaking.

King Kong toppled over. He fell face forward on the couch, out cold. Half his body was on the couch, the other part somewhere else.

I stepped forward and picked up what was left of the camcorder.

I looked at Cindy.

“I’m still going to nail your ass.”

“This man is crazy!” she yelled.

“I believe that you are right,” said Celine.

I spun on my heel and got the hell out of there.

Another wasted day.