Pulp - Charles Bukowski [79]
“Green Moon,” I told him.
“Green Moon? That’s my selection.”
“O.k.,” I said, “let me go bet. I’ll be right back.”
I started to rise.
“Sit down,” he intoned, “before I blow your balls off.”
I sat down.
“Now,” he said, “I want this woman off my tail. Also, I want her real name. I’m not buying this Lady Death thing. And I want you to get busy on this matter. In fact, beginning now!”
“But she’s my client. How can you be my client?”
“You figure it out, fat boy.”
“Fat boy?”
“You got stuff hanging from your gut.”
“Hanging or not hanging, if I work for you I get paid, and I don’t come cheap.”
“Name it.”
“6 bucks an hour.”
He reached into his pocket and came out with a roll of bills. He dropped them down my shirt front.
“Here’s a month in advance.”
Then there was a roar from the crowd. They were coming down the stretch and who was leading by 3? And who won by 4? Green Moon. Odds: 6 to 1.
“Shit,” I told him, “you cost me a score. Green Moon got it all.”
“Shut up,” he said, “and get busy on my case.”
“All right, all right,” I said, “where do I contact you?”
“Here’s my number,” he said, handing me a tiny piece of paper.
Then he got up, walked down the aisle and was gone.
I knew I was in the middle of something big but I couldn’t unscramble it. Well, I had to get busy, that’s all.
I opened the Form and checked out the 5th race.
24
The next day I went down to the Silver Haven Mortuary to check things out there. Damn good business to get into—no slack periods. I parked outside and went in. Nice place. Hushed hall. Thick, dirty rugs. I walked around and into another large room. It was full of caskets. Big ones, little ones, fat ones, thin ones. Some people purchased their caskets ahead of time. Not me. To hell with it.
There didn’t seem to be anybody about. I could boost a casket. I could rope it to my car. Drive away. Where was Grovers? Where was anybody?
Then I got a little itch and the itch got worse. And then I did it. I lifted a casket lid and looked inside. I SCREAMED. And slammed the lid.
There had been a naked woman in there. Young, a looker, but dead. Wow!
Hal Grovers came running in.
“BELANE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
“DOING? DOING? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHERE THE HELL YOU BEEN, GROVERS?”
“THE MEN’S ROOM. WHAT WERE YOU SCREAMING ABOUT?”
I pointed.
“YOU GOT A STIFF IN THAT CASKET! A BABE! BIG JUGS!”
Grovers walked over and opened the lid.
“There isn’t a body in here, Mr. Belane.”
“What?”
I walked over and looked. The coffin was empty.
I whirled and grabbed Grovers by the lapels.
“Don’t play games with me, baby! I saw it! I saw her box! A young dead bimbo! You playing games with me? You and…Billy French…the blood-sucker! I’m not a man to play with, Grovers!”
“Nobody is playing with you, Belane. You’re hallucinating.”
I let go of his lapels.
“Sorry,” I said, “I should have known.”
“Known what?”
“It’s Jeannie Nitro. She’s playing with my mind. She knows I’m on your case.”
“I haven’t seen her lately. Maybe she’s gone.”
“She’s not gone. She’s waiting, Grovers.”
“Waiting for what?”
“I don’t know right now.”
I spun on my heel and looked all around.
“Grovers, quick! How many dead do you have here now?”
“We’ve prepared two. They are in the Slumber Room.”
“I’ve got to see them!”
“What?”
“You want me to crack this case or not?”
“I want you to…crack it.”
“Then I’ll have to look at the two stiffs.”
“Why?”
“If I told you, you’d never guess.”
“What does that mean?”
“Never mind. Now let me have a look.”
“This is highly irregular.”
“Come on! Come on!”
“Very well. Follow me…”
We went into the Slumber Room. Classy place. Dark. Candles burning. There were three caskets.
“O.k., lemme see,” I told Grovers.
“Could you please tell me why?”
“Jeannie Nitro wants to house her space aliens in these dead bodies. Give them a shell, a hiding place. A shell, you know, like a turtle. Nitro is hanging around you to get at these bodies.”
“But these are dead bodies, they are in a state of decay. Besides, we are going to bury them. How can they use them?”
“The space aliens hide