Read Online Kissing the Beehive by Jonathan Carroll - Free Book Online
Authors: Jonathan Carroll
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sore throat."
"It was supposed to be sad!"
He took hold of my chin and squeezed it. "Our bestseller. Sammy Bayer on the _New York Times_ bestseller list. You can't imagine how happy I was when I saw your name there the first time."
His hair was brushed back and gelled into place, _GQ_ magazine style.
His rep tie was elegant and understated; the shirt as smooth and white as fresh milk. He looked either like a successful stockbroker or a professional basketball coach. The same crazy energy I remembered so well glowed on him, but his face was extremely pale and there were deep blue circles under his eyes. It looked like he was halfway through recuperating from a serious illness.
Page 26
"Who's this?"
"My daughter Cassandra."
He put out a hand to shake, but Cass surprised both of us by stepping forward and embracing him. He looked at me over her shoulder and smiled. "Hey, what's this?"
She took a step back. "I know you already. I've been hearing stories about you since I was a baby."
"Really?" He was embarrassed and very pleased. "What'd your dad say about me?"
"I know about the Coke-bottle bombs, the VFW Hall, Anthony Scaro's Chevelle --"
"Whoa! Come on into my office before you get me arrested."
The office was huge and bare of anything but a big scarred desk and two chairs facing it.
"It looks exactly the same as it did twenty years ago!"
Sitting on the other side of the desk, Frannie looked over his shoulder at the room. "I took the Rembrandt down so you'd feel at home. How many times did they have us in here, Sam?"
"You more than me, chief. They should have put up a memorial plaque for you in here."
"I got tired of sitting on your side of the desk and havin' someone hit me on the head with the Yellow Pages. I thought I'd take over and get to do the hitting."
My daughter the pacifist stiffened. "Do you really do that? Hit people with telephone books?"
"Nah, Cassandra, the good old days are over. Now they make us use psychology. But now and then if they get fresh we sneak in and poke 'em with an electric cattle prod."
As I so well remembered, his face gave away nothing. All innocent calm and empty, that perfected poker face had gotten him out of a lot of trouble twenty-five years before.
"Tell her you're joking, Frannie."
"I'm joking, Cass. So, Mr. Bayer Aspirin, how come you've graced us with your presence after two decades?"
"Before we get into that, tell me how in God's name you ended up chief of police? I was sure you'd be --"
"In jail? Thank you. That's what everyone says. I didn't have a religious conversion, if that's what you're worried about. Better -- I went to
Vietnam. Things happened. Good guys died but I didn't. You remember Andy Eldritch? He was eating a can of Bumble Bee tuna his mom had sent and then suddenly he was dead two feet away from me. I'd just asked him if I could have a bite. Things like that. I got pissed off. Life couldn't be _that_ worthless, you know? When I got out, I went to Macalester College in St. Paul and got a
B.S. Then, I don't know, I became a cop. It made sense."
"Are you married?"
"_Was_, but no more. Now I'm single as a thumb."
"Dad's been married three times."
Frannie opened a desk drawer and took out a pack of Marlboros. "Doesn't surprise me. Your dad was always odder than a Brussels sprout. I guess he still is."
"You can say that again. Now he's dating a woman named Veronica Lake."
"Isn't she dead? Well, it takes all kinds."
"Fuck you, Frannie. Listen, remember Pauline Ostrova?"
"Sure, you pulled her out of the river. The day we all grew up."
"You remember everything about that day?"
"Damn right I do, Sam! How many people get murdered in this burg?"
"How many _do_?"
"Two, as long as I've been on the force. That's seventeen years. Both marital things. Very pathetic and uninteresting."
Page 27
"Who did it? Who killed Pauline?"
"Who do they _say_ did it, or who did it?" He lit a cigarette and closed his lighter with a hard snap.
Cass and I
"It was supposed to be sad!"
He took hold of my chin and squeezed it. "Our bestseller. Sammy Bayer on the _New York Times_ bestseller list. You can't imagine how happy I was when I saw your name there the first time."
His hair was brushed back and gelled into place, _GQ_ magazine style.
His rep tie was elegant and understated; the shirt as smooth and white as fresh milk. He looked either like a successful stockbroker or a professional basketball coach. The same crazy energy I remembered so well glowed on him, but his face was extremely pale and there were deep blue circles under his eyes. It looked like he was halfway through recuperating from a serious illness.
Page 26
"Who's this?"
"My daughter Cassandra."
He put out a hand to shake, but Cass surprised both of us by stepping forward and embracing him. He looked at me over her shoulder and smiled. "Hey, what's this?"
She took a step back. "I know you already. I've been hearing stories about you since I was a baby."
"Really?" He was embarrassed and very pleased. "What'd your dad say about me?"
"I know about the Coke-bottle bombs, the VFW Hall, Anthony Scaro's Chevelle --"
"Whoa! Come on into my office before you get me arrested."
The office was huge and bare of anything but a big scarred desk and two chairs facing it.
"It looks exactly the same as it did twenty years ago!"
Sitting on the other side of the desk, Frannie looked over his shoulder at the room. "I took the Rembrandt down so you'd feel at home. How many times did they have us in here, Sam?"
"You more than me, chief. They should have put up a memorial plaque for you in here."
"I got tired of sitting on your side of the desk and havin' someone hit me on the head with the Yellow Pages. I thought I'd take over and get to do the hitting."
My daughter the pacifist stiffened. "Do you really do that? Hit people with telephone books?"
"Nah, Cassandra, the good old days are over. Now they make us use psychology. But now and then if they get fresh we sneak in and poke 'em with an electric cattle prod."
As I so well remembered, his face gave away nothing. All innocent calm and empty, that perfected poker face had gotten him out of a lot of trouble twenty-five years before.
"Tell her you're joking, Frannie."
"I'm joking, Cass. So, Mr. Bayer Aspirin, how come you've graced us with your presence after two decades?"
"Before we get into that, tell me how in God's name you ended up chief of police? I was sure you'd be --"
"In jail? Thank you. That's what everyone says. I didn't have a religious conversion, if that's what you're worried about. Better -- I went to
Vietnam. Things happened. Good guys died but I didn't. You remember Andy Eldritch? He was eating a can of Bumble Bee tuna his mom had sent and then suddenly he was dead two feet away from me. I'd just asked him if I could have a bite. Things like that. I got pissed off. Life couldn't be _that_ worthless, you know? When I got out, I went to Macalester College in St. Paul and got a
B.S. Then, I don't know, I became a cop. It made sense."
"Are you married?"
"_Was_, but no more. Now I'm single as a thumb."
"Dad's been married three times."
Frannie opened a desk drawer and took out a pack of Marlboros. "Doesn't surprise me. Your dad was always odder than a Brussels sprout. I guess he still is."
"You can say that again. Now he's dating a woman named Veronica Lake."
"Isn't she dead? Well, it takes all kinds."
"Fuck you, Frannie. Listen, remember Pauline Ostrova?"
"Sure, you pulled her out of the river. The day we all grew up."
"You remember everything about that day?"
"Damn right I do, Sam! How many people get murdered in this burg?"
"How many _do_?"
"Two, as long as I've been on the force. That's seventeen years. Both marital things. Very pathetic and uninteresting."
Page 27
"Who did it? Who killed Pauline?"
"Who do they _say_ did it, or who did it?" He lit a cigarette and closed his lighter with a hard snap.
Cass and I
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