Read Online Smoked Out (Digger) by Warren Murphy - Free Book Online
Authors: Warren Murphy
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Welles had missed it for the moment, but he would think of it soon.
By that time, Digger would be away from here, away from Welles, away from Scylla.
Back in his room, there was a note next to the telephone. "Dear Tim. Please call me. Lorelei."
Tim? Who was Tim? Digger thought for a moment, then remembered that he was Tim. Tim Kelp. But that was yesterday. Today he was Tom Median. He wondered how long it would be before he was known only as patient number 3546 at the Clark County Hospital for the Mentally Ill.
Lorelei’s note had been written in lipstick on the back of a paper bathmat. In the drawer under the note was a pen and stationery provided by the hotel which she had ignored. He thought she would be wonderful company for him at the funny farm.
He called the Occidental Gift Shop.
"This is Tim, Lorelei. How are you? Sleep well?"
"Yes, Tim, I did. I’m just sorry I punked out on you."
"Don’t worry about it. Some of us can and some of us can’t. Us public-relations types are really good across the bar."
"Anyway," she said, "I wanted to thank you for a great time."
"For me, too."
"I was wondering."
"What?" Digger asked.
"Was it as good for you as it was for me?"
"I felt the earth move," Digger said.
"Oh, I’m glad. I just…wasn’t sure."
"No. It was great. You’re an animal, a filthy disgusting animal, and the things you did to my poor body shouldn’t be done to any man’s body," he said.
"And you liked it?"
"I can’t wait for the encore."
"Did I help you with your story?" she asked.
"Sure did." Digger remembered something. He fished in the night-table drawer for the sympathy card. "Two names came up, Lorelei," he said, looking at the signatures on the card. "Who are they? Ted Dole and Aros or Amos something-with-an-e."
"Oh, I really talked a lot. I told you about Ted?"
"You told me where to reach him, but I didn’t write it down," Digger lied.
"At the Hillfront Tennis Club," she said.
"And this other fellow…Aros or Amos…?"
"I’m sorry, Tim, I don’t know anybody like that."
"Okay," he said.
"Tim, listen," Lorelei said.
"What?"
"Did I take any pills last night? Vitamins or ups or anything?"
"No."
"Then I can take everything today?"
"Everything you want. Don’t forget your kelp."
"Are you going to call me again?" she asked.
"Of course. Do I look like a sport-fucker?"
"Okay. I’ll wait to hear from you."
"Don’t forget your kelp. And the A and B and C and D and E. And the garlic."
"Thanks, Tim."
Next, Digger telephoned his apartment in Las Vegas. Swallowing sleep from her voice, Tamiko answered.
"This is Digger. How are you?"
"Oh, I’m fine. I was wondering if you were ever going to call."
"I have called. I must have kept missing you."
"Yeah, that’s likely, I guess. I was out a lot. I met—"
"Koko, listen. There’s a doctor named Welles out here. He took down my license plate, and it’ll come out registered to you if he checks it."
"What should I tell them if they ask?"
"That you sold the car to your cousin who moved to California. You guess he didn’t have time to register it yet."
"You’re the cousin?"
"Yes."
"What’s your name?"
"It’s…er, let me think…It’s Tom Median."
"What the hell kind of name is that?"
"I don’t know. It just came out."
"What do you do?"
"I’m a traffic safety consultant."
"Tom Median. Highway expert. Very funny. Maybe they should call you Com Median. You find anything out yet?"
"No. It’s probably an accident."
"Money or broads," she said. "Look for money or broads."
"Same thing, aren’t they?"
"You’re starting again. Goodbye, Digger. Call me if you need me."
She hung up before he could answer. Before he could tell her about Lorelei and how he had spent the night sleeping next to her and didn’t touch her, except for one errant hand and one available boobie. Sure. And if she hadn’t hung up early, she would have hung up after that. She didn’t expect him to be celibate on a job. She
Welles had missed it for the moment, but he would think of it soon.
By that time, Digger would be away from here, away from Welles, away from Scylla.
Back in his room, there was a note next to the telephone. "Dear Tim. Please call me. Lorelei."
Tim? Who was Tim? Digger thought for a moment, then remembered that he was Tim. Tim Kelp. But that was yesterday. Today he was Tom Median. He wondered how long it would be before he was known only as patient number 3546 at the Clark County Hospital for the Mentally Ill.
Lorelei’s note had been written in lipstick on the back of a paper bathmat. In the drawer under the note was a pen and stationery provided by the hotel which she had ignored. He thought she would be wonderful company for him at the funny farm.
He called the Occidental Gift Shop.
"This is Tim, Lorelei. How are you? Sleep well?"
"Yes, Tim, I did. I’m just sorry I punked out on you."
"Don’t worry about it. Some of us can and some of us can’t. Us public-relations types are really good across the bar."
"Anyway," she said, "I wanted to thank you for a great time."
"For me, too."
"I was wondering."
"What?" Digger asked.
"Was it as good for you as it was for me?"
"I felt the earth move," Digger said.
"Oh, I’m glad. I just…wasn’t sure."
"No. It was great. You’re an animal, a filthy disgusting animal, and the things you did to my poor body shouldn’t be done to any man’s body," he said.
"And you liked it?"
"I can’t wait for the encore."
"Did I help you with your story?" she asked.
"Sure did." Digger remembered something. He fished in the night-table drawer for the sympathy card. "Two names came up, Lorelei," he said, looking at the signatures on the card. "Who are they? Ted Dole and Aros or Amos something-with-an-e."
"Oh, I really talked a lot. I told you about Ted?"
"You told me where to reach him, but I didn’t write it down," Digger lied.
"At the Hillfront Tennis Club," she said.
"And this other fellow…Aros or Amos…?"
"I’m sorry, Tim, I don’t know anybody like that."
"Okay," he said.
"Tim, listen," Lorelei said.
"What?"
"Did I take any pills last night? Vitamins or ups or anything?"
"No."
"Then I can take everything today?"
"Everything you want. Don’t forget your kelp."
"Are you going to call me again?" she asked.
"Of course. Do I look like a sport-fucker?"
"Okay. I’ll wait to hear from you."
"Don’t forget your kelp. And the A and B and C and D and E. And the garlic."
"Thanks, Tim."
Next, Digger telephoned his apartment in Las Vegas. Swallowing sleep from her voice, Tamiko answered.
"This is Digger. How are you?"
"Oh, I’m fine. I was wondering if you were ever going to call."
"I have called. I must have kept missing you."
"Yeah, that’s likely, I guess. I was out a lot. I met—"
"Koko, listen. There’s a doctor named Welles out here. He took down my license plate, and it’ll come out registered to you if he checks it."
"What should I tell them if they ask?"
"That you sold the car to your cousin who moved to California. You guess he didn’t have time to register it yet."
"You’re the cousin?"
"Yes."
"What’s your name?"
"It’s…er, let me think…It’s Tom Median."
"What the hell kind of name is that?"
"I don’t know. It just came out."
"What do you do?"
"I’m a traffic safety consultant."
"Tom Median. Highway expert. Very funny. Maybe they should call you Com Median. You find anything out yet?"
"No. It’s probably an accident."
"Money or broads," she said. "Look for money or broads."
"Same thing, aren’t they?"
"You’re starting again. Goodbye, Digger. Call me if you need me."
She hung up before he could answer. Before he could tell her about Lorelei and how he had spent the night sleeping next to her and didn’t touch her, except for one errant hand and one available boobie. Sure. And if she hadn’t hung up early, she would have hung up after that. She didn’t expect him to be celibate on a job. She
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