# 99 Easy Street by Louis Shalako

Author:Louis Shalako
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder, mystery, historical, satire, jazz, hardboiled, louis shalako, 99 easy street
Publisher: Louis Shalako

***

“Hey, man. I hate to bother you—” Mark had totally forgotten that you needed soap to do laundry. “I’ll give you fifty cents for a little soap.”

His hand was in his pocket, fishing around. Coins jingled suggestively.

Applied psychology...

“Aw, shit, don’t worry about it, man.” The guy handed over a box of Tide.

The guy let him sprinkle a generous amount of powder over his load, now all set to go.

It was probably a good thing, as Mark only had so much small change and the machines were coin-operated. That was an interesting observation, what with Olivetti dead. Sooner or later, someone, Sylvio maybe, had to show up to service the machines. He knew that from watching the concessionaires at the Institute, where there was a line-up of vending machines in the long main hallway, down in the basement service areas of the hospital. The really interesting thing about the vending machines, was that you could snag a pop or even a free sandwich if you really knew what you were doing and had the place to yourself for a moment. It took a long arm and some manual dexterity. There were metal boxes in there and they were only going to hold so much money. Those, you couldn’t get to.

“Okay, man, see you around.”

“I owe you a cup of soap.”

With a tired smile, the guy shook his head, raised his eyebrows and headed for the door, laundry basket under his arm. Too many other things to contend with, a familiar attitude.

Mark nodded his thanks and the guy left him alone with his thoughts and the machines.

Without a watch, Mark had no idea of how long it took to do a wash. He would have to do the time. Otherwise, he might have wandered back upstairs, where there was nothing else to do in any case. In more prosperous days, he’d worn suits and ties, always having more than one change of costume when out on the road. They used Chinese laundries and dry cleaners when they had a longer gig or a layoff between gigs. The rest of the time, jeans and a leather jacket, a couple of half-decent shirts, would usually suffice. In more prosperous days, things were different. That was usually the way of things. He’d had it pretty good, looking back. He’d always had good shoes, for example. It was funny how the way you dressed affected the way you felt.

The ball cap wasn’t exactly his style either, but it did help to blend in sometimes. He’d taken so many things for granted. All of that was gone now. Things were different now.

Over the years—a wonderful song title.

It was only now that he had learned to appreciate things. It was about time. If you could do it. It had taken something like twenty years. With the load slightly unbalanced, the roar of the washer drowned out all external noises. He had been learning a lot and looking forward to a pretty bright future when they grabbed him. They’d taken four years of his life away from him, and for what?

For what?

Nothing.

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