Sixkill

'You know who said it?'

'I do.'

'Recognize the impression?' Jumbo said.

'You bet,' I said.

'Pretty good, huh?'

'Marvelous,' I said. 'You want to tell me about Miss Lopata?'

'I already told the fox here; she didn't tell you.'

'She did,' I said. 'But I'd like you to go over it again.'

'She is a fox, isn't she?' Jumbo said. 'Hey, lemme tell you, I have wet dreams about her and I'm not even sleeping.'

The Filipino houseman stepped forward and poured some more champagne into Jumbo's glass, and put the bottle back in the ice bucket.

Rita stood.

'I'm your attorney, and I'll give you the best defense I can contrive. But I'm here today as a courtesy, to introduce our investigator. I don't need to be here.'

'So?' Jumbo said.

'So I'm going to wait in the car,' she said, and turned and started for the door.

'This mean you don't want to fuck me?' Jumbo said.

Rita stopped and turned.

'You bet your fat ass it does,' she said, and left the atrium.

Jumbo looked after her.

'Hot,' he said. 'Ever get a little of that?'

He cut off a chunk of steak and ate it.

'Tell me about your evening with Dawn Lopata,' I said.

'First you gotta tell me about Rita,' Jumbo said. 'Was she as hot as she looks? She noisy? She move around a lot?'

He looked at me, popped his eyebrows like Groucho Marx, and drank some champagne.

'Jumbo,' I said. 'There are two things standing between you and the slam. One is your defense attorney. The other is me. You've already managed to offend her. And you are right on the verge of offending me.'

With his mouth full of steak and eggs, Jumbo said, 'Wha's your fucking problem?'

'There isn't a jury in the world wouldn't send you up for life if they spent five minutes with you.'

'Hey, man,' Jumbo said. 'I don't need to listen to shit like that from some two-bit fucking peekaboo.'

'Yes, you do,' I said.

'You're fucking fired, then,' Jumbo said. 'How d'ya like them apples?'

'I don't work for you,' I said. 'I work for Cone, Oakes. Unless I quit.'

'You better quit, because I'm gonna talk to some people,' Jumbo said. 'And you can take this to the bank, buddy, you'll be out on your ass.'

'So what happened to Dawn Lopata,' I said.

Jumbo swallowed another biscuit and drank some champagne.

'Z,' he said. 'Get him outta here.'

The Indian stood, his face still expressionless. He jerked his thumb toward the door.

'Out,' he said.

He radiated menace. I looked back at Jumbo.

'I may stay on this case just to annoy you,' I said.

'Fuck you and the mule you rode in on, pal,' Jumbo said.

'Plus, I'll get a chance to listen to the witty things you say.'

The Indian took a step toward me. He moved oddly, as if the floor was slippery. I hated to beat a hasty retreat. But I couldn't think of anything to be gained by duking it out with Zebulon Sixkill.

So I beat a hasty retreat.

Zebulon Sixkill I

They lived in a shack with a kerosene stove, an outhouse, and no running water. As far back as he could remember, they had been a family of four: himself, his mother and father, and a bottle. They paid more attention to the bottle than they did to Zebulon. In good times, when his father worked, it would be a bottle of Jack Daniel's. In bad times, and that was mostly, it would be some sort of clear hooch with no label at all. By the time he was six, he was pretty much on his own. He was a big boy and got what he wanted by bullying the other kids in school. Somewhere in the early years, Zebulon couldn't quite remember when, his father had run off, and by the