He Died Laughing by Lawrence Lariar

Author:Lawrence Lariar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2018-11-29T13:33:19+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Homer Deals Cards

At Shmendrick’s, the bar was deserted. I took a short breath and squatted at the bar, rapping a palm for service.

“Be right out,” said a voice from somewhere.

“You’ll never keep customers this way, Shmendrick,” I said.

A ferret-faced zombie came through the far end of the bar. “Shmendrick ain’t here,” he said. “You want a drink?”

I looked at my watch. It was nine-thirty.

The makeshift barkeep looked bored. “He just left. You want a drink?”

We weren’t getting anywhere. I ordered a Scotch and tried to think straight. Homer wanted me to talk to Shmendrick. We had seen him cross the studio lot, not too long before. He’d been moving toward his tavern when we’d seen him last. Why had he come to the studio? Where was he now? These were important questions. I sucked at my Scotch.

“Just my luck,” I said. “Just my damn luck. What happens to me shouldn’t happen to a dog.”

The barkeep eyed me. I gulped my drink. “Fill her up again, sonny. And maybe this time you’d better make it a double Scotch.”

He filled it. “You want some pretzels maybe?”

“No. I drink mine straight. I just keep drinking this rotgut till I collapse. I knew it would happen this way. I knew I wouldn’t catch Shmendrick in.”

“What you want Shmendrick for?”

“Doesn’t matter now,” I gurgled. “Too late now. Once I start swilling this stuff I get like a fiend. It runs in the family. My old man was an alcoholic. I just don’t stop till I’ve spent every dime in my pants. What the hell, Shmendrick doesn’t need the dough, anyhow.”

“The dough?” he asked, suddenly alive. “You got dough for Shmendrick?”

I finished the double Scotch and slapped a ten-dollar bill on the bar. “What the hell,” I repeated. “It’ll wait. Maybe I’ll come back next week to pay him off. Tonight I got a date with a movie extra out in North Hollywood.”

He studied the bill, then shifted his weasel eyes my way. “Look here, Bud,” he said. “You don’t want to go around spending other people’s money. It ain’t honest. Suppose you hand over that coin to me, eh? I’ll give it to Shmendrick.”

“Not a chance, not a chance,” I said in my best half drunken drawl. “Gimme my change and I’m off to blow the top of this town.”

He gave me my change, but held my arm. “How much dough you got for Shmendrick?”

“A hundred and a half.”

“From who?”

He was taking the bait. I let the line out. “A dame named Katie Hinds. Over in the studio.”

He whistled. “The old boy wants that dough. He’s been waiting a long time for that dame to shell out. How about you leaving it here with me, Bud?”

I shook off his arm and weaved toward the door. “Not a chance. I got to give it to Shmendrick, in person, sonny boy.”

He ran out from behind the bar and held my arm again. “Listen, bub, you got me by the short hair. I don’t know what to do with you, see? If I let you beat it with that dough I might as well kiss my job good-bye.

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