Read Online Pulp by Charles Bukowski - Free Book Online

“Look, Grovers, you want me to follow up this case?”
    “You mean, Jeannie Nitro?”
    “Of course. You got any other space babes working?”
    “No.”
    “Well, you want me to get her off your neck?”
    “Of course. But do you think you can? Looks to me like you struck out the only time you met her.”
    “Grovers, even Ted Williams struck out now and then. I’ll finally slam that whore so far you’ll never see her again!”
    “I don’t think she’s a whore, Mr. Belane.”
    “Just a manner of speaking. No offense meant against the bimbo.”
    “Do you think you can do anything about her?
    “Even as we are speaking, Grovers, I am working on a link, a tie-in.”
    “Like what?”
    “I can’t tell you too much. But the fact that you play with stiffs and that she is a space alien, that’s a tie-in, a link.”
    “What do you mean, Mr. Belane?”
    “I can’t tell you too much. But I have been consulting with a spe-cialist in these matters. He’s got a book on the space aliens but he requested more background on you.”
    “All right, what do you want to know?”
    “Hold it. Before I put any more time on this case, I’ll need another check. Two weeks in advance.”
    “Do you think you can do something?”
    “God damn it, I’ve just told you, I’m in full swing on this matter!”
    “All right, Mr. Belane, I’ll get a check in the mail today. Two weeks.”
    “You’re a wise man, Mr. Grovers.”
    “Yes.”
    “Oh, Mr. Belane, Billy French just came back from lunch. You want to talk to him?”
    “No, but ask him what he had for lunch.”
    “Just a moment…”
    I waited. Then he was back. “He said roast beef and mashed potatoes.”
    “That’s sickening!”
    “What?”
    “I’ve got to go now, Mr. Grovers.”
    “But I thought you wanted more background on me.”
    “I’ll send you a questionnaire.”
    I hung up, swung my feet up on the desk. I was putting the pieces back in line. I was there. Nick Belane, dick. Yet I still had to solve the Red Sparrow affair. And then there was Celine and Lady Death. There was always Lady Death.
    Now there was a whore.
    I mean, what else could you call her?

20
    I had to think about it. I had to think about all of it. Somehow, it was all tying together: space, death, Sparrow, stiffs, Celine, Cindy, Bass.
    But I couldn’t quite fit the pieces together. Not yet. My temples began to throb. I had to get out of there.
    The office walls held no answers. I was going goofy, I began to think of myself in bed with Lady Death, Cindy and Jeannie Nitro, all of them, at once. All too much. I put on my derby and walked out the door.
    I found myself at the racetrack. Hollywood Park. There were no live horses. They were at Oak Tree. The races were telecast and you bet as usual.
    I took the escalator up. Guy behind me bumped against one of my hip pockets.
    “Oh, sorry,” he said. “Pardon me.”
    I always carried my wallet in my left front pocket. You learned, you learned. After a while.
    Passed the Turf Club. Looked in. Just a bunch of old guys. With money. How did they do it? And how much did you need? And what did it all mean? We all died broke and most of us lived that way. It was a debilitating game. Just to get your shoes on in the morning was a victory.
    I pushed open the door and stepped into the clubhouse area. And there was the mailman standing there sucking on a coffee. I walked up to him.
    “Who the hell let you in here?” I asked him.
    His face looked out of shape. Swollen.
    “Belane,” he said, “I’m going to kill you.”
    “You shouldn’t drink coffee,” I said, “it will keep you awake nights.”
    “I’m going to take you out, Belane, your days are numbered.”
    “Who do you like in the first?” I asked him.
    “ Dog Ears .”
    “Here,” I handed him a couple of bucks, “get lucky.”
    “Hey, thanks Belane!”
    “Forget it,” I said, then walked off.
    Something was always after a man. It never relented. No rest, ever.
    I walked over to