into a corner of her small living room, and it was here that Ollie shared a piano bench with her while he pored over the sheet music for “Night and Day.” Helen sat perched to his right on one scant corner of the bench, Ollie’s wide buttocks overwhelming the remainder of it. He kept pecking away at the keys.

“I’m having trouble with the notes in the first few bars,” he said.

He loved musical terms.

Until now, a bar was just a place where you went to have a beer.

Helen looked at him.

“The notes in the first fewbars?” she asked.

“Yeah. They’re giving me trouble,” he said.

“There is onlyone note in the first few bars,” she said. “It is the same note repeated three times. G. The note is G. Three times. Bom, bom, bom. Night. And. Day. That is the same note, Mr. Weeks. How can it be giving you trouble?”

“I don’t know, it’s just giving me trouble.”

“Mr. Weeks, we’ve been working on the first six measures of this song for the past little while now …”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Without, I must confess, noticeable progress. Are yousure you want to take piano lessons?”

“I am very sure. Yes, Miss Hobson. My ambition is to play five songs on the piano.”

“Because … and this is a possibility you may wish to consider, Mr. Weeks … perhaps you have no talent.”

“Oh, I have talent, all right.”

“Perhaps not.”

“I have talent to spare. I think I’m just in some kind of slump, is all. Not bein able to get past those first three notes.”

“But those first three notes are one and thesame note! Bom, bom, bom,” she said, demonstrating, striking the note three times in succession. “Night. And.Day!” she said, striking the same note again and again and again. “It is impossible for you to be having trouble with the identical note struck three times. It is physically impossible, Mr. Weeks. Bom, bom, bom,” she said, hitting the note again. “It’s so simple arodent could tap it out with his nose.”

“It isn’t that I haven’t been practicing,” he said.

“Bom, bom, bom,” she said.

“It’s just I caught these two murder cases …”

“Please,” she said, and lowered her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t like to hear about …”

“I truly don’t.”

“I’m just trying to explain I’ve been very busy. And also, I’ve begun writing a book.”

Helen turned to look at him.

“Yeah,” he said, and grinned. “A novel.”

She kept staring at him.

“A novel,” she said. “My.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

He went on to explain that he’d been a cop for almost twenty years now, and a detective for fifteen of those years, so he knew a little bit more about police work than your average run-of-the-mill aspiring writer, didn’t he?

“I’m sure you do,” Helen said.

So he’d picked up what he guessed was some sort of form letter this editor at Wadsworth and Dodds …

“Which is where I’m investigating the second murder …”

… writes to people who make inquiries and it had really been very helpful, and had probably started him on yet another worthwhile career, though not one so satisfying as yet as playing the piano …

“If I can just get past those first three notes,” he said.

“Thesamenote, Mr. Weeks. It is theidentical note. Bom, bom,bom,” she said, pounding the G key.

“His name is Henry Daggert,” Ollie said.

“Whose name?”

“This editor at Wadsworth and Dodds. He’s a senior editor and vice president. I practically memorized everything he wrote.”

“But you can’t memorize the first note of this song,” Helen said, tapping the sheet music. “Such asimple note, too. Just think of the three notes as thesame note, can you do that? Place your index finger over the G key, and strike it once, bom. Let it resonate, and then strike it again, bom. Can you do that?”

Вы читаете Money, Money, Money
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату