?Mostly yes? It?s all right. I didn?t figure, once you run free, you?d be back soon. I mean, this ain?t the front end of the elephant is it??
?It?s not the back, either.?
?Near on to it.? Henry laughed. ?Jesus, it?s good to hear your voice, son. I always did think you smelled good. I mean, if innocence was ever put up in a pack, it was you, chewing two sticks of spearmint at a time. You?re not sittin?. Sit. Let me tell you my worries, then you tell yours. They tore down the Venice pier, they tore up the Venice short-line train tracks, tear up everything. Next week, they rip up this tenement. Where do all the rats go? How do we abandon ship with no lifeboats??
?You sure??
?They got termites working overtime, below. Got dynamite squads on the roof, gophers and beavers gnawing in the walls, and a bunch of trumpeters learning Jericho, Jericho, practicing out in the alley to bring this tumbling down.
?Is it that bad, Henry??
?Bad leaning into worse, but that?s okay. It?s time to move on, anyway. Every five years, just pack your toothbrush, buy new socks and git, that?s what I always say. You got a place to put me, boy? I know, I know. It?s all white out there. But, hell, I can?t see, so what?s the difference??
?I got a spare room in my garage, where I type. It?s yours!?
?God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost coming up fast.? Henry sank back in his chair, feeling his mouth. ?Is this a smile or is this a
He stopped smiling, and leaned forward.
?Armpits somewhere
?Not quite armpits, Henry. Something like.?
?Not too much like, I hope.?
?More,? I said, after a beat. ?Can you come with me, right now? I hate to rush you, Henry. And I?m sorry to take you out at night.?
?Why, son,? Henry laughed gently, ?night and day are only rumors I heard once, as a child.?
He stood, groped around.
?Wait,? he said, ?till I find my cane. So I can see.?
54
Crumley and blind Henry and I arrived near the graveyard at midnight.
I hesitated, staring at the gate.
?He?s in there.? I nodded toward the tombstones. ?The Beast ran there the other night. What do we do if we meet him??
?I haven?t the faintest goddamn idea.? Crumley stepped through the gate.
?Hell,? said Henry. ?Why not??
And he left me behind in the night, on the empty sidewalk.
I caught up with them.
?Hold on, let me take a deep breath.? Henry inhaled and let it out. ?Yep. It?s a graveyard all right!?
?Does it worry you, Henry??
?Hell,? said Henry, ?dead folks ain?t nothing. It?s live ones ruin my sleep. Want to know how I know this ain?t just a plain old garden? Garden?s full of flower mixes, lots of smells. Graveyards? Mostly tuberoses. From funerals. Always hated funerals for that smell. How?m I doing, detective??
?Swell, but?? Crumley moved us out of the light. ?If we stand here long enough, someone?ll think we need burying and do the job. Hup!?
Crumley walked swiftly away among a thousand milk-white tombstones.
Beast, I thought, where are you?
I looked back at Crumley?s car and suddenly it was a dear friend I was leaving a thousand miles back.
?You haven?t told yet,? said Henry. ?Why?d you bring a blind man to a graveyard? You need my nose??
?You and the Baskerville Hound,? Crumley said. ?This way.?
?Don?t touch,? said Henry. ?I got a dog?s nose, but my pride is all cat. Watch out, Death.?
And he led the way between the gravestones, tapping right and left, as if to dislodge big chunks of night or strike sparks where sparks never struck before.
?How?m I doin??? he whispered.
I stood with Henry among all the marbles with names and dates and the grass growing quietly between.
Henry sniffed.
?I smell me one big hunk of
