of confusion and disgust. Not really a pleasant mix, but then again, it wasn’t really a pleasant face.
“Okay, Clarenden,” he said. “You’ve got us for now, but I promise you this won’t be the end of it. We don’t know how you got here, but we’re damn well going to find out.”
“Yeah,” said Frying Pan. “You better watch yourself. We can make your time in Heaven very difficult if we want to.”
With that, the two cops turned and strode out of the bar, slamming the door behind them. As soon as they were gone, Alby looked at me.
“And you’re trying to tell me you’re not a mistake.”
“The only mistakes I know about in Heaven just left the building.”
Alby didn’t look convinced. “Well, mistake or not, I guess at least there’s someone new up here for them to hassle.”
“They give you a hard time?”
“They never stop. As soon as that vote was cast, they were onto me.”
“In my job I used to have to deal with cops a lot,” I said, “and I figured out one thing pretty quick.”
“What’s that?”
“The cops are never the ones running the show. There’s always someone hidden away in the background, pulling the strings. Alby, I might have a chance for you to put your investigative skills into action.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Find out who’s pulling the strings.”
Alby’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for me?”
“A few minutes ago, you were saying how bored you were. Wouldn’t you like a little excitement?”
“Excitement I could do with. Trouble, on the other hand . . . ” He indicated the door through which the cops had just departed.
I beckoned for him to come closer. I spoke in a whisper into his ear. “I can’t promise anything, but I believe I can make this worth your while.”
He thought for a moment. “Okay, you talked me into it. I’ll see what I can find.”
“That’s the spirit. Go and dig up some dirt for me. How about we rendezvous back here tomorrow?”
“Might as well. It’s as bad as any other place around here.”
As I left the tavern, I took one last look at Alby Stark nursing his glass of soda water. He might have made it into Heaven, but in his own way he was very much in . . . I think you know the place I’m talking about.
Chapter 5
BEFORE I RETURNED TO THE OFFICE , I went into a little sandwich bar to grab some lunch. Then I hit the shops to pick up some of the essentials I was going to need in order to function effectively as a private investigator. This shopping without money was one thing about Heaven I could definitely get used to.
Back in the office, I made some hasty renovations that put my new purchases to good use. Then I paused to consider my progress.
My morning expedition had been surprisingly successful. I’d already found two people with potential grudges against Phil: Raphael, because Phil didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm for a charitable society; and Alby, because Phil had sentenced him to an eternity of peace and contentment. All right, so Raphael seemed about as dangerous as a pygmy Chihuahua in a steel muzzle, but you could never be too sure. Alby, on the other hand, was a completely different kettle of slimy gossip. I decided I would have to talk to Peter to find out more about how this special case slipped into Heaven.
Remembering what Peter’s workload was like, I figured I’d better give him a call first to see if he could fit me into his schedule. I checked the information on his card, picked up the telephone receiver, and dialed the number listed for St Peter Inc.
After a couple of rings I heard a click and then Peter’s voice.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hey, Peter,” I leapt in. “It’s Jimmy Clarenden here and . . . ” I paused. Not only did Peter not seem to be listening to me, but he kept right on talking.
“ . . . You have called St Peter. I’m sorry, but I’m far too busy to pick up the phone at the moment. Please leave a message at the tone. I probably won’t
“Okay, Clarenden,” he said. “You’ve got us for now, but I promise you this won’t be the end of it. We don’t know how you got here, but we’re damn well going to find out.”
“Yeah,” said Frying Pan. “You better watch yourself. We can make your time in Heaven very difficult if we want to.”
With that, the two cops turned and strode out of the bar, slamming the door behind them. As soon as they were gone, Alby looked at me.
“And you’re trying to tell me you’re not a mistake.”
“The only mistakes I know about in Heaven just left the building.”
Alby didn’t look convinced. “Well, mistake or not, I guess at least there’s someone new up here for them to hassle.”
“They give you a hard time?”
“They never stop. As soon as that vote was cast, they were onto me.”
“In my job I used to have to deal with cops a lot,” I said, “and I figured out one thing pretty quick.”
“What’s that?”
“The cops are never the ones running the show. There’s always someone hidden away in the background, pulling the strings. Alby, I might have a chance for you to put your investigative skills into action.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Find out who’s pulling the strings.”
Alby’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for me?”
“A few minutes ago, you were saying how bored you were. Wouldn’t you like a little excitement?”
“Excitement I could do with. Trouble, on the other hand . . . ” He indicated the door through which the cops had just departed.
I beckoned for him to come closer. I spoke in a whisper into his ear. “I can’t promise anything, but I believe I can make this worth your while.”
He thought for a moment. “Okay, you talked me into it. I’ll see what I can find.”
“That’s the spirit. Go and dig up some dirt for me. How about we rendezvous back here tomorrow?”
“Might as well. It’s as bad as any other place around here.”
As I left the tavern, I took one last look at Alby Stark nursing his glass of soda water. He might have made it into Heaven, but in his own way he was very much in . . . I think you know the place I’m talking about.
Chapter 5
BEFORE I RETURNED TO THE OFFICE , I went into a little sandwich bar to grab some lunch. Then I hit the shops to pick up some of the essentials I was going to need in order to function effectively as a private investigator. This shopping without money was one thing about Heaven I could definitely get used to.
Back in the office, I made some hasty renovations that put my new purchases to good use. Then I paused to consider my progress.
My morning expedition had been surprisingly successful. I’d already found two people with potential grudges against Phil: Raphael, because Phil didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm for a charitable society; and Alby, because Phil had sentenced him to an eternity of peace and contentment. All right, so Raphael seemed about as dangerous as a pygmy Chihuahua in a steel muzzle, but you could never be too sure. Alby, on the other hand, was a completely different kettle of slimy gossip. I decided I would have to talk to Peter to find out more about how this special case slipped into Heaven.
Remembering what Peter’s workload was like, I figured I’d better give him a call first to see if he could fit me into his schedule. I checked the information on his card, picked up the telephone receiver, and dialed the number listed for St Peter Inc.
After a couple of rings I heard a click and then Peter’s voice.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hey, Peter,” I leapt in. “It’s Jimmy Clarenden here and . . . ” I paused. Not only did Peter not seem to be listening to me, but he kept right on talking.
“ . . . You have called St Peter. I’m sorry, but I’m far too busy to pick up the phone at the moment. Please leave a message at the tone. I probably won’t
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