Read Online A Fatal Glass of Beer by Stuart M. Kaminsky - Free Book Online
Authors: Stuart M. Kaminsky
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book on the table next to the telephone. I flipped through it slowly, looking for notes or marks or underlines, knowing that even if I found any they might belong to the last person who had rented the place. I found nothing.
As I put down the book, the phone rang. I picked it up after one ring and looked at the bedroom door. Fields was standing there, listening.
“Yes?” I said.
“No,” came the answer. It was the same muffled voice that had told me to stay away from Hipnoodle.
“This is Lester Hipnoodle,” I said. “Who are you?”
“Peters,” said the voice. “You and the old man still have time to walk away alive.”
“We appreciate that,” I said.
He hung up. I looked over at Fields.
“I think it was our friend Hipnoodle. He warned us to stop looking for him.”
“But the damned letter he sent said he knew we’d come after him,” said Fields. “The man can’t make up his mind. Sounds like a movie producer.”
“Anything in the bedroom?” I asked.
Lightning cracked. The windows streamed with rain.
“Last three issues of Collier’s , two used razor blades in the bathroom garbage, and an almost unused bar of Palmolive soap. Very green.”
I moved to the kitchen with Fields and checked the refrigerator, which was empty except for three Hershey chocolate bars, a depleted bottle of milk, and a shriveled green pepper.
Nothing on the small table. The countertop near the sink was clear. I lifted the lid of the garbage can. There were two Hershey bar wrappers and a crumpled sheet of paper in the garbage.
I picked up the sheet of paper and flattened it on the table. The writing was clear. “Lancaster. Eleven in the morning. April Fools’ Day.”
“He wanted us to find it,” Fields said.
“Counted on it,” I answered, folding the note neatly and putting it in my pocket.
“Lancaster, Pennsylvania,” said Fields. “I have an account there. When do you think my car will arrive?”
“Two days,” I said.
“Man must drive like a maniac,” said Fields.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “We can go to Lancaster now, try to get your money out before he gets there.”
“I want to catch the bastard,” said Fields, moving to the sink and looking out at the rain through a small window. “We go to Lancaster. He goes somewhere else. You know how many bowling pins I dropped on my head and toes learning to juggle? I couldn’t afford Indian clubs. Had to steal bowling pins. I nearly collapsed staying up till three in the morning, teaching myself to juggle, developing an act. I was the tramp juggler. You know why? Because I juggled in the only clothes I owned, wearing a fake mustache I made myself. I worked for that money. I’m not losing a penny of it.”
“Your call,” I said.
“Not one red Indian penny or one copper profile of the Great Emancipator,” he went on. “Hipnoodle has declared war, and war is what Hipnoodle shall have. Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m getting just a bit tired and in need of libation.”
Chapter Four
I once lost a bald canary in Altoona.
“Lost a bald canary in Altoona once,” Fields said, carefully examining the glass in his hand as we sat in the rear of his car, heading west, with Gunther remaining well above the speed limit on the two-lane highways across Pennsylvania.
We swayed, bounced. Fields managed not to spill a drop of his drink.
“Bird belonged to a midget,” said Fields. “Much the same size as our diminutive driver but with none of his aplomb. While I was on the circuit, it was my accursed luck to keep running across the Lilliputian demon on the same bill. The chap had a bad disposition and thought himself humorous. Carried around a small bird cage with a canary that chirped merrily inside.”
Gunther was listening to the radio quietly in the front seat, the window between him and the passenger compartment closed. I was leaning forward in the backseat every few minutes, checking the mirror to see if we were being followed.
“Well,
As I put down the book, the phone rang. I picked it up after one ring and looked at the bedroom door. Fields was standing there, listening.
“Yes?” I said.
“No,” came the answer. It was the same muffled voice that had told me to stay away from Hipnoodle.
“This is Lester Hipnoodle,” I said. “Who are you?”
“Peters,” said the voice. “You and the old man still have time to walk away alive.”
“We appreciate that,” I said.
He hung up. I looked over at Fields.
“I think it was our friend Hipnoodle. He warned us to stop looking for him.”
“But the damned letter he sent said he knew we’d come after him,” said Fields. “The man can’t make up his mind. Sounds like a movie producer.”
“Anything in the bedroom?” I asked.
Lightning cracked. The windows streamed with rain.
“Last three issues of Collier’s , two used razor blades in the bathroom garbage, and an almost unused bar of Palmolive soap. Very green.”
I moved to the kitchen with Fields and checked the refrigerator, which was empty except for three Hershey chocolate bars, a depleted bottle of milk, and a shriveled green pepper.
Nothing on the small table. The countertop near the sink was clear. I lifted the lid of the garbage can. There were two Hershey bar wrappers and a crumpled sheet of paper in the garbage.
I picked up the sheet of paper and flattened it on the table. The writing was clear. “Lancaster. Eleven in the morning. April Fools’ Day.”
“He wanted us to find it,” Fields said.
“Counted on it,” I answered, folding the note neatly and putting it in my pocket.
“Lancaster, Pennsylvania,” said Fields. “I have an account there. When do you think my car will arrive?”
“Two days,” I said.
“Man must drive like a maniac,” said Fields.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “We can go to Lancaster now, try to get your money out before he gets there.”
“I want to catch the bastard,” said Fields, moving to the sink and looking out at the rain through a small window. “We go to Lancaster. He goes somewhere else. You know how many bowling pins I dropped on my head and toes learning to juggle? I couldn’t afford Indian clubs. Had to steal bowling pins. I nearly collapsed staying up till three in the morning, teaching myself to juggle, developing an act. I was the tramp juggler. You know why? Because I juggled in the only clothes I owned, wearing a fake mustache I made myself. I worked for that money. I’m not losing a penny of it.”
“Your call,” I said.
“Not one red Indian penny or one copper profile of the Great Emancipator,” he went on. “Hipnoodle has declared war, and war is what Hipnoodle shall have. Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m getting just a bit tired and in need of libation.”
Chapter Four
I once lost a bald canary in Altoona.
“Lost a bald canary in Altoona once,” Fields said, carefully examining the glass in his hand as we sat in the rear of his car, heading west, with Gunther remaining well above the speed limit on the two-lane highways across Pennsylvania.
We swayed, bounced. Fields managed not to spill a drop of his drink.
“Bird belonged to a midget,” said Fields. “Much the same size as our diminutive driver but with none of his aplomb. While I was on the circuit, it was my accursed luck to keep running across the Lilliputian demon on the same bill. The chap had a bad disposition and thought himself humorous. Carried around a small bird cage with a canary that chirped merrily inside.”
Gunther was listening to the radio quietly in the front seat, the window between him and the passenger compartment closed. I was leaning forward in the backseat every few minutes, checking the mirror to see if we were being followed.
“Well,
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