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Authors: Charlie Huston
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doctor or something and sent him on his way. Then I followed
him to his flop, broke into his room after he was asleep, bled him dry in the bathtub and
made it look like a suicide. Guys like that kid are dangerous and you can't let them run
around causing trouble.
But I don't blame him, I blame the movies. That's obviously where he got his ideas and
dialogue. Maybe if he had never seen
Horror of Dracula
he would have just mourned his sister and never went looking for trouble. But Evie likes
them, the horror movies. I mean for real. So that's OK, we watch them together and every
now and then I sneak in some Howard Hawks or Billy Wilder on her.
Around three the phone finally rings and I talk to the woman Predo told me about.
They say the King Cole room at the St. Regis is one of the most beautiful bars in New
York. They're right. All that oak and those high-price hotel hookers and that Maxfield
Parrish mural behind the bar, it almost makes it worth having to come uptown for the
second time in two days. At least this time it's at night so I can leave the burnoose
behind. The hostess at the door asks me if I'd like a table and I tell her I'm meeting
someone. She smiles and indicates that I should take a look around. I step into the room
and spot her right away. She's sitting in a corner of the room at one of the small
cocktail tables. She's the only person sitting alone. She rises as I walk over.
--Mr. Pitt?
--Joe, you can call me Joe.
--Joseph. How lovely to meet you.
--Yeah.
She blushes just slightly.
--Oh, yes, you still don't know my name.
--Nope.
She starts to sit and releases a very genuine and slightly embarrassed laugh.
--Sorry, I'm Marilee Ann Horde.
My jaw clenches. Marilee Ann Horde. Thank you very fucking much Dexter fucking Predo. She
watches me standing there.
--Perhaps you'd like to sit and have a drink.
I sit.
--You must tell me, Joseph.
--Yeah?
--Whatever happened to your face?
The conversation on the phone was brief. She told me she was uncomfortable speaking in
detail over the open line and asked if we could meet. I said sure, but it would have to be
that evening. She suggested six and I countered with nine-thirty. She said the Cole and I
said sure.
Joe Pitt 1 - Already Dead
On the way up to 55th I made a plan for myself. Get the woman's story and lay off whatever
errand she needs run until next week. Get the hell back downtown, go to the school and
pick up where I left off last night before I got waylaid. See if I can pick up that musky
sex scent the girl zombie had and find it anywhere else in the building or the streets
nearby. That's not a dime-a-dozen scent. And all the while keep my eyes peeled for whoever
the Coalition has creeping around. And if all else fails pick up Philip again. Nice plan,
should have got me somewhere. Then I found out I was meeting with Marilee Ann Horde.
She's drinking ridiculously expensive designer vodka on the rocks. I accept a glass of the
same. --You come highly recommended, Joseph.
--I get the job done. But I'm surprised Mr. Predo would recommend me to you.
She smiles just a bit.
--And yet.
--Uh-huh. Look, Ms. Horde.
--Marilee.
--This isn't really my kind of job.
--What kind of job is that?
--The kind that takes place in your neck of the woods.
--And what is
my neck of the woods,
Joseph?
I look at her sitting there. Coy and quiet, a stylish thirty-three-year-old beauty. She's
wearing a tailored summer suit in a subtle rose shade and a crisp linen blouse, her only
jewelry the engagement ring and wedding band on her left hand. The stone in the engagement
ring not the usual Upper East Side two-carat-plus rock, but a tastefully sized blue-while
in a deco platinum setting. Her hair appears to be naturally golden, and she has its
length twirled up and pinned neatly to the back of her head, just three perfect strands
dangling to
him to his flop, broke into his room after he was asleep, bled him dry in the bathtub and
made it look like a suicide. Guys like that kid are dangerous and you can't let them run
around causing trouble.
But I don't blame him, I blame the movies. That's obviously where he got his ideas and
dialogue. Maybe if he had never seen
Horror of Dracula
he would have just mourned his sister and never went looking for trouble. But Evie likes
them, the horror movies. I mean for real. So that's OK, we watch them together and every
now and then I sneak in some Howard Hawks or Billy Wilder on her.
Around three the phone finally rings and I talk to the woman Predo told me about.
They say the King Cole room at the St. Regis is one of the most beautiful bars in New
York. They're right. All that oak and those high-price hotel hookers and that Maxfield
Parrish mural behind the bar, it almost makes it worth having to come uptown for the
second time in two days. At least this time it's at night so I can leave the burnoose
behind. The hostess at the door asks me if I'd like a table and I tell her I'm meeting
someone. She smiles and indicates that I should take a look around. I step into the room
and spot her right away. She's sitting in a corner of the room at one of the small
cocktail tables. She's the only person sitting alone. She rises as I walk over.
--Mr. Pitt?
--Joe, you can call me Joe.
--Joseph. How lovely to meet you.
--Yeah.
She blushes just slightly.
--Oh, yes, you still don't know my name.
--Nope.
She starts to sit and releases a very genuine and slightly embarrassed laugh.
--Sorry, I'm Marilee Ann Horde.
My jaw clenches. Marilee Ann Horde. Thank you very fucking much Dexter fucking Predo. She
watches me standing there.
--Perhaps you'd like to sit and have a drink.
I sit.
--You must tell me, Joseph.
--Yeah?
--Whatever happened to your face?
The conversation on the phone was brief. She told me she was uncomfortable speaking in
detail over the open line and asked if we could meet. I said sure, but it would have to be
that evening. She suggested six and I countered with nine-thirty. She said the Cole and I
said sure.
Joe Pitt 1 - Already Dead
On the way up to 55th I made a plan for myself. Get the woman's story and lay off whatever
errand she needs run until next week. Get the hell back downtown, go to the school and
pick up where I left off last night before I got waylaid. See if I can pick up that musky
sex scent the girl zombie had and find it anywhere else in the building or the streets
nearby. That's not a dime-a-dozen scent. And all the while keep my eyes peeled for whoever
the Coalition has creeping around. And if all else fails pick up Philip again. Nice plan,
should have got me somewhere. Then I found out I was meeting with Marilee Ann Horde.
She's drinking ridiculously expensive designer vodka on the rocks. I accept a glass of the
same. --You come highly recommended, Joseph.
--I get the job done. But I'm surprised Mr. Predo would recommend me to you.
She smiles just a bit.
--And yet.
--Uh-huh. Look, Ms. Horde.
--Marilee.
--This isn't really my kind of job.
--What kind of job is that?
--The kind that takes place in your neck of the woods.
--And what is
my neck of the woods,
Joseph?
I look at her sitting there. Coy and quiet, a stylish thirty-three-year-old beauty. She's
wearing a tailored summer suit in a subtle rose shade and a crisp linen blouse, her only
jewelry the engagement ring and wedding band on her left hand. The stone in the engagement
ring not the usual Upper East Side two-carat-plus rock, but a tastefully sized blue-while
in a deco platinum setting. Her hair appears to be naturally golden, and she has its
length twirled up and pinned neatly to the back of her head, just three perfect strands
dangling to
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