“I was kidding, mister, can’t you take a joke?”
“Depends upon how it’s told.”
Eddie walked off again, stood down at the far end of the bar.
I lifted the drink, slammed it down. Then I pulled out a bill. I took the lime, squeezed it onto the bill. Then I rolled the bill around it, then rolled it down the bar toward the barkeep. It stopped in front of him. He looked down at it. I slowly stood up, did a little neck exercise, turned and walked out. I decided to go back to the office.
I had work to do. My eyes were blue and nobody loved me but myself. I walked along humming my favorite bit from “Carmen.”
30
I unlocked the door to my office, swung it open, and there she was: Jeannie Nitro, sitting on my desk, legs crossed, kicking her heels.
“Belane, you pitiful drunk, how ya doing?” she smiled.
She looked great. I could see where Grovers was in trouble. What did it matter if she was a space alien? The way she looked you wanted more of them around. But Grovers was my client. I had to do this one in, off her, move her out of the picture. I never got any rest. I was always on the hustle for somebody.
I swung around my desk, flopped on my chair, tossed my derby onto the hat rack, lit a cigar and sighed. Jeannie just sat on the desk, kicking her legs.
“To answer your question, Jeannie, I’m doin’ all right.”
“I’ve come to make a deal with you, Belane.”
“I’d rather hear a Scarlatti sonata.”
“How long since you had a woman?”
“Who cares?”
“You should.”
“Suppose I don’t?”
“Suppose you do?”
“You offering me your bod, Jeannie?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s the maybe? Either you do or you don’t.”
“The bod is part of the deal.”
“Which is?”
Jeannie popped off the desk and began walking the rug. She looked good walking the rug.
“Belane,” she said while still walking, “I’m the first wave of an invasion force from Space. We are going to take over the earth.”
“Why?”
“I’m from the planet Zaros. We are overpopulated. We need the earth for our excess people.”
“Well, why in the hell don’t you come on in? You look just like humans. Nobody would ever know.”
Jeannie stopped walking and faced me.
“Belane, we don’t look like this. What you are seeing is only a mirage.”
Jeannie came over and sat down on my desk again.
“What do you really look like?” I asked.
“This,” she said.
There was a flash of purple light. I looked down on my desk. There was this thing. It looked like an above average size snake, only it was covered with coarse hair and at its center was a round, moist glob with a single eye. The head had no eyes, only a thin mouth. It was truly a hideous looking thing. I grabbed the telephone, raised it high and brought it down hard. I missed. The thing had slithered to one side. It crawled down along the rug. I ran after it to crush it with my shoe. There was another flash of purple light and then Jeannie stood there again.
“You fool,” she said, “you tried to kill me. Don’t anger me or I’ll take you out!”
Her eyes were blazing.
“O.k., baby, o.k., I just got kind of confused. Sorry.”
“All right, forget it. Now, we are an advance force sent to scout the earth for our excess population. But we feel it would only be sensible to align some of you humans to our Cause. Like you.”
“Why me?”
“You’re the perfect type, you’re gullible, self-centered and have no character.”
“What’s with Grovers? Why him? Why the dead bodies? How does he fit?”
Jeannie laughed.
“He doesn’t. We just landed there. I became somewhat attached to him, just a mild flirtation, something to do….”
“And me? You got the hots for me, baby?”
“You’re usable for the Cause.”
She moved toward me. I was totally entranced. Her body was against mine, we pressed together. We embraced and our mouths joined. Her tongue darted into my mouth, it was hot and wiggled like a small snake.
I pushed her away.
“No,” I said, “I’m sorry, I can’t!”
She looked at me.
“What is it, Belane? You too old?”
“It’s not that, baby…”
“What is it?”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings…”
“Tell me, Belane…”
“Well, you might turn into that ugly thing again with the bump in the middle and that one eye…”
“Why you fat fuck, Zaronians are beautiful!”
“I didn’t think you’d understand…”
I walked back around my desk, sat down, pulled open the drawer, found the pint of vodka, unscrewed the cap, had a hit.
“How’d ya land?” I asked Jeannie.
“Space tube.”
“Space tube, huh? How many of you?”
“6.”
“I don’t know if I can help you, baby…”
“You’ll help me, Belane.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You’re dead.”
“Christ, first Lady Death. Now you. All you ladies do is threaten me with death. Well, maybe I’ll have something to say about that!”
I reached into the drawer for the luger. I had it in my hand. I pulled off the safety catch and leveled the gat at her.
“I’ll blow you all the way back to Zaros, baby!”
“Go ahead, pull the trigger!”
“What?”
“I said, pull the trigger, Belane!”
“You think I won’t?”
I could already feel some sweat at my temples.
“You think I won’t?” I repeated.
Jeannie just smiled at me.
“Pull the damned trigger, Belane!”
My whole face was a mass of sweat.
“Please go back to Zaros, sweetheart!”
“NO!”
I pulled the trigger. There was a roar of sound and the gun kicked back in my hand. I rubbed the sweat away from my eyes and looked.
Jeannie was standing there smiling at me. I looked closer. She had something in her mouth. It was the bullet. She had caught the bullet with her teeth. She walked toward the desk, stopped. Then she spat the bullet out into my ashtray.
“Baby,” I said, “we can make a lot of money with that trick! We can team up! We can be rich! Think of it!”
“I wouldn’t think of it, Belane. That would be a misuse of my powers.”
I took another hit of my vodka. I had a real problem here with Jeannie.
“Now,” said Jeannie, “I am enlisting you for our Cause, the Cause of the Zaros, whether you like it or not. We are still revising our plan to inhabit the earth. You’ll be contacted and advised at our discre-tion.”
“Look, Jeannie, can’t you get anybody else for this goddamned thing?”
She smiled.
“Belane, you have been Selected!”
There was a flash of purple light and she was gone.
31
I got Grovers on the phone. He was in.
“How’s business, Grovers?”
“Steady,” he said, “no recession here.”
“Your case with Jeannie Nitro, it’s closed. She won’t be bothering you any more. I’ll mail you a bill for final charges.”
“Final charges? You trying to stiff me?”
“Grovers, I got this alien babe off you. Now you pay up.”
“All right, all right…but how’d you do it?”
“Trade secret, baby.”
“All right, I suppose I should be grateful.”
“Don’t suppose, just be. And pay your bill unless you want to be using one of your pine boxes. Or, do you prefer walnut?”
“Well, l
et’s see…” he began.
I sighed and hung up.
I put my feet up on the desk. I was making progress. Now all I had to do was to nail Cindy Bass’s ass and locate the Red Sparrow.
Of course, Jeannie Nitro was now my problem. I was my own client.
But Celine and Grovers were history. In a sense I was beginning to feel truly professional.
But before I could relax, Lady Death entered my mind again. She was still there.
The phone rang, I picked it up. It was Lady Death.
“I’m still here, Belane.”
“Why don’t you take a vacation, babe?”
“I can’t. I enjoy my work too much.”
“Listen, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you just work the earth?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, does your work include, say, uh…space aliens?”
“Of course. Space aliens, worms, dogs, fleas, lions, spiders, you name it.”
“That’s nice to know.”
“What’s nice to know?”
“That you work space aliens.”
“You bore me, Belane.”
“I’m glad of that, baby.”
“Listen, I’ve got some work to do…”
“Just answer me one question…”
“Maybe. What is it?”
“How do you kill a space alien?”
“No problem.”
“A bullet won’t do it. What do you use?”
“That’s a secret of the trade, Belane.”
“You can tell me, baby, my lips will be forever sealed.”
“Fat boy,” she said just before hanging up, “I might take care of that for you.”
I put the phone down and put my feet back on the desk. Christ, 6 space aliens on the prowl and enlisting me for the Cause. I should notify the authorities. Sure, lot of good that would do. I had to solve it myself. Seemed damned tough. Maybe I ought to sit on it for a while. I uncapped the vodka and had a little nip.
After all, there was still the Red Sparrow and Cindy Bass. I took out a coin and flipped it: heads, Red Sparrow; tails, Cindy Bass. It came up tails. I smiled, leaned back in my chair and thought about her: Cindy Bass. Nailing it.
32
Well, to celebrate my progress as probably the greatest detective in L.A. I closed the office, took the elevator down and hit the street. I tried walking south, did, hit Sunset Boulevard and strolled along.
Problem with Sunset, in my neighborhood, there weren’t many bars.
I walked along. Finally found one, half-a-class place. I didn’t feel like sitting on a stool. I took a booth. Here came the waitress. She had on a mini-skirt, high heels, see-through blouse with padded brassiere. Everything was too small for her: her outfit, the world, her mind. Her face was hard as steel. When she smiled it hurt. It hurt her and it hurt me. She kept smiling. That smile was so false the hairs on my arms rose. I looked away.
“Hi, honey!” she said, “watcha havin’?”
I didn’t look at her face. I looked at her midriff. It was exposed.
She had a little paper rose, red, pasted across her bellybutton. I talked to the paper rose.
“Vodka and tonic with lime.”
“Sure, honey!”
She minced off, trying to roll her buns attractively. It didn’t work.
At once, I began to get depressed.
Don’t, don’t, Belane, I said to myself.
It didn’t take. Everybody was screwed. There were no winners.
There were only apparent winners. We were all chasing after a lot of nothing. Day after day. Survival seemed the only necessity. That didn’t seem enough. Not with Lady Death waiting. It drove me crazy when I thought about it.
Don’t think about it, Belane, I said to myself.
It didn’t take.
The waitress arrived with my drink. I put down a bill. She picked it up.
“Thanks, honey!”
“Wait,” I said, “bring me the change.”
“There isn’t any change.”
“Then, consider your tip included.”
She opened her eyes large. They were blank.
“What’re you, a god-damned cowboy?”
“What’s a cowboy?”
“You don’t know what a god-damned cowboy is?”
“No.”
“That’s somebody who wants a free ride.”
“You think that up yourself?”
“No. That’s what the girls call them.”
“What girls? The cowgirls?”
“Mister, you got a bug up your ass or what?”
“It’s most probably ‘what.’”
“MARY LOU!” I heard this loud voice, “THAT ASSHOLE GIVING YOU
TROUBLE?”
It was the bartender, a little guy with beetle brows.
“Don’t worry, Andy, I’ll handle this asshole.”
“Yeah, Mary Lou,” I said, “you’ve probably handled a lot of assholes.”
“WHY YOU COCKSUCKER!” she screamed.
I saw Beetle Brows vaulting the bar. Good trick for a guy his size.
I slammed my drink down and rose to meet him. I ducked under his right and dug my knee into his privates. He dropped, rolling on the floor. I kicked him in the ass and walked out onto Sunset Boulevard.
My luck in bars was getting worse and worse.
33
So I went to my place and drank and there went that day and that night.
I awakened about noon, eliminated some waste, brushed my teeth, shaved, mused. Didn’t feel too bad. Didn’t feel too much. I got dressed. I put on an egg, let it boil. I drank a glass of half-tomato and half-ale. I let the egg run under cold water, peeled it, ate it and then I was as ready as I would ever be.
I picked up the phone and got Jack Bass at his office. I told him who I was. He didn’t seem happy with me.
“Jack,” I told him, “remember that Frenchman I told you about?”
“Yeah? What about him?”
“I got him out of the way.”
“How?”
“He’s dead.”
“Good. Was he the one?”
“Well, he was in contact with her.”
“Contact? What the hell you mean by that?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Try me, Belane.”
“Listen, I’m trying to nail Cindy’s ass. That’s why you hired me.
Right?”
“I don’t know why I hired you. I think it was a mistake.”
“Jack, I got the Frenchman. He’s dead.”
“So where do we stand?”
“He can’t bang her.”
“Did he?”
“Jack…”
“Did you? All this ‘nail her ass’ shit! Are you a pervert?”
“Look, I got a tight tail on Cindy. We want hard evidence.”
“There you go again!”
“We’re closing in, Jack. It won’t be long. Trust me.”
“Then there was more than the Frenchman?”
“I think so.”
“You think so? You think so? Hell, I’m paying you good money.
It’s been weeks and all you can tell me there’s a dead Frenchman and ‘I think so’? You’re just spinning your wheels! I want action! I want evidence! I want this thing busted wide open!”
“Within 7 days, Jack.”
“You’ve got 6.”
“6 days, Jack.”
There was silence at his end. Then he spoke again.
“All right. I’m leaving for the airport in an hour. Got business back east. I’ll be back in 6 days.”
“Everything will be solved, baby.”
“Don’t call me baby. What’s this ‘baby’ shit?”
“Just a manner of speaking…”
“You clean up this mess or I’ll see you in hell, motherfucker!”
“You talking to me, Jack?”
I was holding a silent
telephone. He’d hung up on me. The prick.
Well…it was time to get busy…
34
So, there I was, parked outside of Bass’s place, a third of a block down. It was evening, no it was night, about 8 p.m. Cindy’s red Mercedes was in the drive. I had a hunch I was onto something.
Something was going to happen. There was a smell in the air. I put my cigar out. I picked up my car phone and dialed out for the results of the 9th race. Lost again. Life was wearing. I felt oppressed, wasted.
My feet hurt.
Cindy was probably in there watching something stupid on tv, crossing her warm legs and laughing at something inane and obvi-ous. Then I began thinking about Jeannie Nitro and her five space buddies. They wanted to enlist me. I was no sell-out. I had to break up that gang. There had to be a way. Maybe if I could find the Red Sparrow, the Red Sparrow would sing me the answer. Was I crazy?
Was all this happening?
I picked up the phone and dialed in John Barton. He was there.
“Listen, John, this is Belane. I’m having trouble closing in on the Red Sparrow. Maybe you better get another man.”
“No, Belane, I have faith in you, you’ll do it.”
“You really think so?”
“I have no doubt of it.”
“Well, I’ll stay on the case then.”
“Right.”
“I’ll contact you if I get onto anything.”
“Do that. Good night.”
He hung up. Nice guy.
I started to relight my cigar. I almost spit it out. Cindy Bass was walking out of the house. She moved to her car. Got in.
Baby, baby, lead me to it.
She started up, turned on her lights, backed out of the drive. She swung around, headed north. I followed a half a block or so back.
Then she turned onto the main boulevard, Pacific Coast Highway, to be exact. She headed south. I was about 3 car lengths back. She went across an intersection and the light turned red on me. I had to go through. It was close but no hit. I heard the horns and somebody called me an asshole. People lacked originality.
Then I was 3 car lengths behind her again. She was in the right hand lane. She began to slow down, then she turned into a driveway, a motel driveway. Honeydunes Motel. Sweet. She pulled in and parked at #9. I drove down to #7, parked, cut my lights and waited.
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