Pulp - Charles Bukowski [68]
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