Might
it even be that Kunkle had a heart condition?
No heart medicine in the
place.
Or that the mental pressure had
caused the poor guy to have a stroke?........
Z had to find out more; Ted Newbold
possibly of some help.
Getting up from the table, almost
knocking over his straight chair he was so distracted, Z circled
the fireplace to reach the two-seater, green sofa. Turning, he
sagged down near the black rotary; managed, after a couple of wrong
numbers, to dial the Gladstone police station.
Funny how the dancing flames in the
black metal fireplace now seemed so ... cold.
"Gladstone Public Safety," said a
bored female voice.
"Detective Newbold."
"Who is speaking, please?"
"A friend."
Z had to be careful when
calling Teddy. Ted's captain, Philip Scherer, didn't like Z; didn't
like his men having anything to do with Z. Hated Z, would be more like it, ever
since Z had messed up the Betterton bust, Mrs. Betterton to be the
political horse Scherer was to ride to officeholder
glory.
A click broke the hostile silence on
the line.
Then a ring.
"Detective Newbold,
speaking."
Z could picture Teddy leaning back in
his new, but cheap, swivel chair, one of his carefully polished
shoes on his particle board desk.
Teddy had once said that the best
advice his Mother had given him -- one he'd patterned his life on
-- was to keep his shoes shined. ... Said a lot about Ted's Mother.
... Said a lot about Ted.
"Z."
"One moment, sir."
Always the same, Ted now scrambling to
shut his office door in case Captain Scherer went past and caught
Ted talking to Z.
"Yeah, Z, what you want?" Ted, back at
his desk; being his old, unpleasant self. "And anyway, where'd you
go at the reunion? One minute you're there, ugly as shit on a
shingle, and the next you're gone."
"Bud Izard ..."
"Yeah. Yeah. I remember. Wanted to see
you about some five-buck job. I don't know how you could have been
so big in high school and turned out like you did. Not that you're
not scraping by. But ... well, you know what I mean."
"Yeah."
"Anyway, you missed a
great party. Not in the park, but later on. At the dinner that
night. Pretty classy. Even my wife thought it was classy. All
catered. At the Carlton hotel out by the airport. Thick-sliced
roast, you could cut with a knife." Ted meant fork . "Strawberry pie.
"Course, it was dress-up. Got to wear
my new blue suit. Got it at a half-price sale at the Factory
Warehouse. Would have cost me a hundred easy, if I'd had to pay
full price for it.
"Jason Yount was Master of Ceremonies
for the formal part after dinner. Told some good ones about this
one and that, you know, sort of rememberin' the old days and all
the shit we pulled. How Eddy Rogers -- always was an electrical
geek -- found the wiring to the school's fire alarm running through
the ventilator in the boy's john. Shorted out the wires. Hell, it
took 'em half a day to trace it down and get the friggin' siren
turned off, all of us freezing our asses off standing outside,
wondering when the fire department was going to come. What a
laugh!" Teddy was chuckling to himself.
"Ted?"
"Yeah?"
"Got a question."
"Oh. OK. But you missed a good time,
believe me. ... So, what you got? Get it out quick while I'm in
such a good mood. You know, the captain don't -- doesn't -- like me
to have anything to do with you. Particularly in my official
capacity."
"Yeah. ... Last night's
killing."
"I know about that, sure. Though it
wasn't my squeal." Ted was generally kept off cases the department
didn't want screwed up.
"Murder?"
"With the dead guy all tied up like a
Christmas tree stuffed into one of them plastic net bags? Didn't
take a genius to figure he'd been stiffed."
"Paper said suffocated."
"Right. Those dumb M.E.'s
don't get it right half the time, but even they couldn't screw up this
one."
"Could have been a heart
attack?"
"Of course the coroner is going to
have to say, but the way they tell it at the station -- this is
Bayliss's baby -- some sick bastard
it even be that Kunkle had a heart condition?
No heart medicine in the
place.
Or that the mental pressure had
caused the poor guy to have a stroke?........
Z had to find out more; Ted Newbold
possibly of some help.
Getting up from the table, almost
knocking over his straight chair he was so distracted, Z circled
the fireplace to reach the two-seater, green sofa. Turning, he
sagged down near the black rotary; managed, after a couple of wrong
numbers, to dial the Gladstone police station.
Funny how the dancing flames in the
black metal fireplace now seemed so ... cold.
"Gladstone Public Safety," said a
bored female voice.
"Detective Newbold."
"Who is speaking, please?"
"A friend."
Z had to be careful when
calling Teddy. Ted's captain, Philip Scherer, didn't like Z; didn't
like his men having anything to do with Z. Hated Z, would be more like it, ever
since Z had messed up the Betterton bust, Mrs. Betterton to be the
political horse Scherer was to ride to officeholder
glory.
A click broke the hostile silence on
the line.
Then a ring.
"Detective Newbold,
speaking."
Z could picture Teddy leaning back in
his new, but cheap, swivel chair, one of his carefully polished
shoes on his particle board desk.
Teddy had once said that the best
advice his Mother had given him -- one he'd patterned his life on
-- was to keep his shoes shined. ... Said a lot about Ted's Mother.
... Said a lot about Ted.
"Z."
"One moment, sir."
Always the same, Ted now scrambling to
shut his office door in case Captain Scherer went past and caught
Ted talking to Z.
"Yeah, Z, what you want?" Ted, back at
his desk; being his old, unpleasant self. "And anyway, where'd you
go at the reunion? One minute you're there, ugly as shit on a
shingle, and the next you're gone."
"Bud Izard ..."
"Yeah. Yeah. I remember. Wanted to see
you about some five-buck job. I don't know how you could have been
so big in high school and turned out like you did. Not that you're
not scraping by. But ... well, you know what I mean."
"Yeah."
"Anyway, you missed a
great party. Not in the park, but later on. At the dinner that
night. Pretty classy. Even my wife thought it was classy. All
catered. At the Carlton hotel out by the airport. Thick-sliced
roast, you could cut with a knife." Ted meant fork . "Strawberry pie.
"Course, it was dress-up. Got to wear
my new blue suit. Got it at a half-price sale at the Factory
Warehouse. Would have cost me a hundred easy, if I'd had to pay
full price for it.
"Jason Yount was Master of Ceremonies
for the formal part after dinner. Told some good ones about this
one and that, you know, sort of rememberin' the old days and all
the shit we pulled. How Eddy Rogers -- always was an electrical
geek -- found the wiring to the school's fire alarm running through
the ventilator in the boy's john. Shorted out the wires. Hell, it
took 'em half a day to trace it down and get the friggin' siren
turned off, all of us freezing our asses off standing outside,
wondering when the fire department was going to come. What a
laugh!" Teddy was chuckling to himself.
"Ted?"
"Yeah?"
"Got a question."
"Oh. OK. But you missed a good time,
believe me. ... So, what you got? Get it out quick while I'm in
such a good mood. You know, the captain don't -- doesn't -- like me
to have anything to do with you. Particularly in my official
capacity."
"Yeah. ... Last night's
killing."
"I know about that, sure. Though it
wasn't my squeal." Ted was generally kept off cases the department
didn't want screwed up.
"Murder?"
"With the dead guy all tied up like a
Christmas tree stuffed into one of them plastic net bags? Didn't
take a genius to figure he'd been stiffed."
"Paper said suffocated."
"Right. Those dumb M.E.'s
don't get it right half the time, but even they couldn't screw up this
one."
"Could have been a heart
attack?"
"Of course the coroner is going to
have to say, but the way they tell it at the station -- this is
Bayliss's baby -- some sick bastard
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