A whole day had passed, all I had done was walk down the street for coffee and a sandwich, tried to straighten my files, and leafed through a nudie magazine looking for interesting articles. I glanced at the clock on my desk. Ten-thirty, Wednesday evening and I was still waiting for Tuesday's paper.
'We're waiting, Elmo.' I grimaced wickedly. 'We're playing chess.'
'Chess?' Elmo's eyes looked at me incredulous.
'Basically, I've finished all the moves I want to make.' I laughed with Tommy's strained and frightening mirth. 'We've been led along for a while, and the longer this case, or cases, go on, the more I see conspiracy. Since I've only suspicions about who is involved, I'll wait. I can afford to, and hope one of the conspirators will grow impatient, and make a move. Either that or they'll get another detective. I need to know more, so I know whose toes to step on.'
'Oh,' Elmo nodded and lit a cigarette. 'We'll w-wait.'
'It's the best thing.' I leaned back in my chair and burped-hot and acid. What was it about alcohol? Why could they never hide its poison nature? I never made the attempt, but even in those gigantic tropical drinks with the beach umbrellas, coconuts and fruit spears, you could taste its distinct toxic flavor. Unless the body held some sway still. Like a dog trained to sniff skiers out of Swiss avalanches, perhaps the body was trained to nose and dig out poisons. A lengthy memory of hangovers was testimony to its poisonous effect upon the body; but I drank it anyway. As I eyed its dangerous amber spirit, I felt something equally menacing rise within myself. I understood the relationship. It was that strange human impulse towards death that had us murder old dogs and cats with cataracts-that murderous pity of the human race-that made me drink. Humanity, the bifurcated beast-the mad dog that strained at Darwin's leash with as much desire to survive as destroy itself. Drink made it plain. Our survival mechanisms assured our destruction. I upended the glass, and drained it. At least I understood the relationship. That's why I drank it straight.
The phone rang. I smiled knowingly at Elmo and lifted the receiver.
'Wildclown,' I said. At the back of my mind, I could feel Tommy all stretched and rubbery with the alcohol.
'This is Inspector Cane.' The voice came hard and harsh.
'Inspector Cane. How wonderful of you to call.' I blew smoke from a fresh cigarette.
'No fucking around, Wildclown.' I'm sure I heard him snarl. I know I imagined him showing his teeth. 'We found your friend, Adrian.'
'My friend…' I sat upright now. 'Where? How about Van Reydner?' I conjured up my mental picture of her-all eyes and breasts-or was it breasts and eyes.
'No. Van Reydner's still a no-show.' He went quiet. 'I want to talk to you.'
'Sure, but where's Adrian?' I began to smell complicity again.
'Take the Western Highway for about an hour. I'm still at the scene.' He hung up.
I hung up. At the scene. Not likely a traffic accident. That would be too easy. Murder? I emptied my glass, then looked at Elmo.
'Out onto the highway west, Elmo. Want to come?'
I could see fear and loathing in his sad and cold dead eyes. His dead lips formed an ugly frown. He nodded.
'Good!' I smiled, as I quickly took another shot of Canadian Club, secreted its long dark length in one of my oversized pockets, and then led the way out the door. It might have been the whiskey thinking, or Tommy, but I genuinely hoped I wasn't too late to talk to Mr. Adrian-maybe push his broad white teeth down his throat.
Chapter 32
We were on the highway west. The night sky and my thoughts were dark. Long black Authority vehicles blocked a section of the highway. Their bullet-shapes flickered in scarlet light. A circle of figures gathered near the edge of the double eastbound lane. 'Elmo, stay here, okay?' I climbed out of the bullet-riddled passenger door. It rattled with shrapnel when I slammed it. Elmo was glued to the steering wheel. He simply nodded, then drank from the Canadian Club. I had brought it for him. His boss didn't need it. I was already feeling pretty light in the loafers. Elmo seemed to sense the Landfillers many feet below. I left him and crawled over the cement median wall. Authority Enforcers had cordoned off a large section of the far lane of the eastbound. They grew to elephant size in the strange light. I swaggered up to them as best I could in clown makeup. The Enforcers didn't stop me. I had the urge to make a snarky remark about whether the food at the zoo was as bad as everybody said it was, but their grim features-galvanized in the protective masks-snapped my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I walked past them to a circle of trench coats.
Mr. Adrian was looking a bit unraveled-if it was him. The body had dropped a lot of fluid on the road. Every liter of its blood smeared the asphalt. I could feel it glue my boots in place. I found I could make squishy, sticky noises if I moved my heels rapidly up and down.
Mr. Adrian with the blue eyes was now a ribbon of wet gray flesh. He was stretched out in a thirty-foot smear. He had been cut up with something sharp, then stretched out like a streamer at a parade. The worst part of it was that what remained was moving. Mr. Adrian had been out here for a while because Blacktime was over. Strange, snakelike undulations rippled through the grisly mess as the corpse made its first attempts at afterlife. Only the whiskey saved me from realizing the full horror of Mr. Adrian's position. I saw one of his eyes-it blinked and I felt bile rise at the back of my throat. There was no sign of the other, or the nose that had sat for so many years between them. I had no reason to wish anything good for the man, but only a monster would do this. At least they could have burned him up, or something-committed him to the only grave that would hold a person these days. This was something different. This type of cruelty transcended the inhumane.
One of the investigators in his long black coat turned quickly toward me. It was Cane. His glance was as sharp as his omnipresent toothpick.
'Not a pretty sight. Jesus, Wildclown. I'd swear you look pale. How goes your spook baby case?'
'This is related,' I said. I was surprised to see a strange expression convulse his features.
'Related is it?' He laughed without humor. His eyes flashed at his fellow Inspectors with angry timidity. 'This is an Authority restricted investigation. You're not supposed to be this close.' He walked me away from the corpse, snarling. 'You didn't like Mr. Adrian, did you?'
I caught his drift. 'I don't dislike anyone that much. Come on, what did you call me out here for? Not for some lame attempt to implicate me. What do you have?' I felt cocky. I was sure that Cane had some strange stake in all these occurrences.
'I didn't call you, asshole.' He stared hard.
I winked. Cane looked angry.
'We got an anonymous call about three hours ago. Said we'd find Richard Adrian wandering the highway. It…' He cocked a thumb over his shoulder at 'it.' Cane continued. 'It is off the highway enough that your average motorist wouldn't recognize what it is. We don't know how long he's been here. Autops boys are looking into it. They're working on a positive genetic match from blood and hair samples. Poor fucker's out of Blacktime! We got a wallet, but that's shit.' He paused and winced evilly. 'What do you know about Van Reydner?' He leveled and fired his gaze at me.
'Same thing you know. She's gone. Maybe she took Adrian out. Who knows? She had a streak of the black widow in her. But that case is closed. I've been paid. It's over. You find her. Maybe she's gone somewhere to raise a family.'
An odd look grabbed Cane's features. His face paled where it huddled beneath his hat like a humpbacked toad. His eyes flashed to either side of me. 'You've stepped too far. Wildclown, you just did, right there.' He jerked his thumb like a dagger. 'Beat it. Now!' His thick lips grinned around the brass toothpick.
I stood my ground for a minute, staring at Cane. I thrust Tommy's jaw at him. 'I've got a funny feeling about you.' I didn't point a finger at him; I knew he'd break it.
Cane only smiled a smile that has been worn by every abuser of authority since the Beginning. He snarled. 'Are you one of these shit heads who enjoys life for the moment, paying no attention to the future?'
'I guess you could say I was one of those shit heads. I grab life by the balls and squeeze.' I showed him
