Hit Parade by Lawrence Block

Author:Lawrence Block
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2006-10-15T18:30:00+00:00

Keller, wearing jeans and a Mets warm-up jacket, stood near a water fountain in Central Park. On the phone, he’d designated a particular park bench, and he’d stationed himself where he could keep an eye on it. He’d set the meeting time for 10 P.M., and Claude Harrelson, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, was two minutes early.

Keller watched him walk right to the bench and sit down. The man didn’t look around at all, but there was something furtive about him all the same. Keller circled around, came up behind Harrelson, and stood there for a moment.

I’m the man who sat next to you on the flight from Detroit, he’d said on the phone. No names, all right? There was something you wished you could do. Suppose somebody could do it for you. Wouldn’t that solve all your problems?

And here was Harrelson, ready to have his problems solved.

“Don’t turn around,” Keller said quietly, and Harrelson started visibly, but didn’t turn. “I don’t want to see your face, and I don’t want you to see mine. I’m going to touch you, though, because I need to make sure you’re not wearing a wire.” Harrelson offered no resistance, and Keller, who hadn’t really expected to find a wire, made certain Harrelson wasn’t wearing one.

Then he talked, explaining just what was on offer here. He had a friend, an associate, who would undertake to solve Harrelson’s problem in return for a substantial fee, payable half in advance and half on completion of the work. “He won’t know your name,” Keller assured him, “and you won’t know his, and you’ll never meet him, so there’ll be nothing to connect the two of you.”

“I like that part,” Harrelson said.

“So? Have you had enough time to think it over?”

“God knows I’ve been thinking about it,” Harrelson said. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else. It’s strange, you know? For all this time I’ve wanted him dead, I’ve had fantasies of killing him in dozens of different ways. Smashing his skull with a baseball bat, stabbing him, shooting him, running him over with a car. You can’t imagine.”

Keller, who had done all those things and more at one time or another, figured he could imagine well enough. But he didn’t say anything.

“But it was never real,” Harrelson went on. “It was safe to have fantasies like that because I knew that was all they were, just fantasies. Fantasies never got anybody killed.”

Keller wasn’t too sure about that, but he let it go.

“Now it’s real,” Harrelson said. “At least I think it’s real. I mean, for all I know, you could be wearing a wire. How do I know I’m not being entrapped?”

How did you answer something like that? Keller decided a solemn approach was indicated. “You have my word,” he said.

“Oh.”

“I think you’re probably a good judge of character, Claude. I think you know my word is good.”

Harrelson, who still had not turned to look at him, considered the point and nodded. “Then it’s real,” he said.

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