that I would not like Bevo Rasmussen, and she was right. I found him ridiculous and repulsive. And I felt a little guilty about my reaction. He was, after all, my firm’s client.
My
client.
Rasmussen held his hand up and flexed it so that the dragon’s tail tattooed on the back of it writhed. “You got a good handshake,” he said. “Strong. I can tell things about a man by his handshake.” There was a pause, in which I was supposed to ask what he could tell about me.
“I see,” I replied.
“I can tell you’re a man to be counted on, Counselor. I can tell we’re going to be friends.”
“I hope so.”
“Mind if I smoke?” he asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of a jacket pocket.
“Sorry,” I said, “there’s no smoking in the office.”
“That’s all right, that’s all right,” he said, pocketing the cigarettes. “It’s not going to ruin a budding friendship. Say, tell you what. I’m not just a client, Mr. Parker. I’m the welcome wagon.” He set a bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the desk between us. “Cheers to your new job with Chandler and Stroud. I don’t know if you’re aware of the fact, sir, but Claymore County is dry. It’s twenty-two miles round-trip to the nearest liquor store, which happens to be run by an associate of mine. You wouldn’t happen to know where we might find some glasses, do you? We could toast your new job. You do drink, don’t you?”
“I do drink, and I appreciate the welcome, Mr. Rasmussen, but it’s a bit too early in the day for me to start.”
“Call me Bevo.”
“Let’s forgo the whiskey, Bevo.”
“Well, then, here’s something you might like to try,” he said, reaching into his inside coat pocket and bringing out a slim plastic package, which he tossed on the desk. Inside the package were shiny black patches of what I took at first to be boiled tree bark.
“Jerky?” I said.
“It’s another one of my bidniss interests. That’s genuine emu jerky. You know, the big African birds? That’s the most nutritious food in the world. Bursting with protein. Mark my words, that little package is going to make some people around here rich. Do you like jerky, Mr. Parker?”
I hadn’t eaten jerky since I was thirteen or fourteen, but I remembered liking it then. “As a matter of fact, I do,” I told him. “Thanks.”
The little man slapped a scrap of paper on the desktop. “My final gift of the morning,” he said. On the paper was scribbled a name and a phone number.
“Nevah June Balch?” I read.
“She’s expecting your call. Best herbalist in three counties,” he said.
“Herbalist?”
He leaned forward and whispered, “For your foot problem. That bromohydroxy business. She’ll clear that right up. Don’t worry about the fee. It’s taken care of.”
I felt myself coloring. “Thanks, Mr. Rasmussen, but my feet are fine.”
“Sure they are! And they’ll be even better when Nevah June gets through with them. Trust me on this. You’ll like her. She’s a favorite of Mr. Hardwick Chandler’s, too. She makes this salve helps him with his dandruff. Speaking of Mr. Chandler, I ain’t seen his jolly face around the office this afternoon.”
“No, Mr. Chandler isn’t here,” I said.
“Nor is Mr. Stroud, am I right?” he asked.
“Not at the moment.”
“But you’re here, ain’t you,” he said, smiling as if he had just proven a point. “You’re here holding down the fort.”
It seemed I had passed some sort of test. He sighed deeply. “You might not know it to look at me, Mr. Parker, but it’s been hand to mouth for me lately. Hand to mouth. A man who’s been wronged like me, a responsible man, a man of the community such as I am, it just plays fast and loose with his sense of purpose. Know what I mean? I mean, what’s it all for if it can all be taken away from you quick as a bullet? What has the American dream come to?”
There was an oily confidentiality in his tone that made my hands feel
My
client.
Rasmussen held his hand up and flexed it so that the dragon’s tail tattooed on the back of it writhed. “You got a good handshake,” he said. “Strong. I can tell things about a man by his handshake.” There was a pause, in which I was supposed to ask what he could tell about me.
“I see,” I replied.
“I can tell you’re a man to be counted on, Counselor. I can tell we’re going to be friends.”
“I hope so.”
“Mind if I smoke?” he asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of a jacket pocket.
“Sorry,” I said, “there’s no smoking in the office.”
“That’s all right, that’s all right,” he said, pocketing the cigarettes. “It’s not going to ruin a budding friendship. Say, tell you what. I’m not just a client, Mr. Parker. I’m the welcome wagon.” He set a bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the desk between us. “Cheers to your new job with Chandler and Stroud. I don’t know if you’re aware of the fact, sir, but Claymore County is dry. It’s twenty-two miles round-trip to the nearest liquor store, which happens to be run by an associate of mine. You wouldn’t happen to know where we might find some glasses, do you? We could toast your new job. You do drink, don’t you?”
“I do drink, and I appreciate the welcome, Mr. Rasmussen, but it’s a bit too early in the day for me to start.”
“Call me Bevo.”
“Let’s forgo the whiskey, Bevo.”
“Well, then, here’s something you might like to try,” he said, reaching into his inside coat pocket and bringing out a slim plastic package, which he tossed on the desk. Inside the package were shiny black patches of what I took at first to be boiled tree bark.
“Jerky?” I said.
“It’s another one of my bidniss interests. That’s genuine emu jerky. You know, the big African birds? That’s the most nutritious food in the world. Bursting with protein. Mark my words, that little package is going to make some people around here rich. Do you like jerky, Mr. Parker?”
I hadn’t eaten jerky since I was thirteen or fourteen, but I remembered liking it then. “As a matter of fact, I do,” I told him. “Thanks.”
The little man slapped a scrap of paper on the desktop. “My final gift of the morning,” he said. On the paper was scribbled a name and a phone number.
“Nevah June Balch?” I read.
“She’s expecting your call. Best herbalist in three counties,” he said.
“Herbalist?”
He leaned forward and whispered, “For your foot problem. That bromohydroxy business. She’ll clear that right up. Don’t worry about the fee. It’s taken care of.”
I felt myself coloring. “Thanks, Mr. Rasmussen, but my feet are fine.”
“Sure they are! And they’ll be even better when Nevah June gets through with them. Trust me on this. You’ll like her. She’s a favorite of Mr. Hardwick Chandler’s, too. She makes this salve helps him with his dandruff. Speaking of Mr. Chandler, I ain’t seen his jolly face around the office this afternoon.”
“No, Mr. Chandler isn’t here,” I said.
“Nor is Mr. Stroud, am I right?” he asked.
“Not at the moment.”
“But you’re here, ain’t you,” he said, smiling as if he had just proven a point. “You’re here holding down the fort.”
It seemed I had passed some sort of test. He sighed deeply. “You might not know it to look at me, Mr. Parker, but it’s been hand to mouth for me lately. Hand to mouth. A man who’s been wronged like me, a responsible man, a man of the community such as I am, it just plays fast and loose with his sense of purpose. Know what I mean? I mean, what’s it all for if it can all be taken away from you quick as a bullet? What has the American dream come to?”
There was an oily confidentiality in his tone that made my hands feel
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