Mr. Hands by Gary A. Braunbeck

Author:Gary A. Braunbeck
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781428503342
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

INTERLUDE

The Hangman, 1 A.M.

Henry waited in the silence for someone to say something; when no one did, he finished off his coffee, set the cup on the bar, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and said, “That’s the part where most of the doctors whip out the prescriptions pads, by the way.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Jackson. “By the way, the fellow you mentioned, Thalidomide Man. We know him.”

Henry’s mouth actually fell open a little. “You’re kidding?”

The Reverend shook his head. “Nope. His name is Linus—not after the Peanuts character, mind you.”

“After the character Humphrey Bogart played in Sabrina, with Audrey Hepburn,” said Grant. “He’ll lecture you for ten minutes if you don’t understand that.”

Henry stared at all of them for several moments. “How do you know him?”

“He’s a regular at the open shelter,” said the Reverend. “I’ve known him for . . . oh, I’d say at least ten years.”

“Eight for me,” said Jackson.

Grant nodded. “Same for me.”

Henry’s eyes grew wide. “Is he still alive?”

“I’d say ‘and kicking,’ but that would be in questionable taste,” replied the Reverend.

“Linus’d laugh at it,” said Grant.

“Yes,” said the Reverend, “and then make me suffer for it. No thank you.” He turned back toward Henry. “Why the interest in Linus? You actually damn near jumped off your stool when we said this.”

“No . . . no reason, really. It’d . . . it’d just be nice to actually meet someone from this story,” said Henry.

The Reverend nodded his head, saying nothing, only casting a quick glance at both Grant and Jackson. “Yes, I imagine that it would—but come, dear fellow. We’ve once again interrupted your story for no good reason. Please continue.”

Henry saw Grant glance once again at the long knickknack shelf above the bar. “What is it?”

Grant turned. “Beg pardon?”

“When you guys started talking about Linus, you looked at something on that shelf. What were you looking at?”

The Reverend placed a gentle hand on Henry’s forearm. “One story at a time, okay?”

Henry nodded. “Okay . . . but you guys have to tell me at least one of the stories behind something on that shelf or I’m gonna be mad.”

The three of them looked at Henry.

“You feeling any better yet?” asked Grant.

“A little. Maybe. I don’t know,” said Henry.

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” said Grant. “You finish your story and help the rest of us clean up after last call, and you pick any item up here and ask us about the story behind it.”

Jackson coughed. “What’s this ‘help the rest of us clean up’ shit?”

Grant smiled. “No such thing as a free lunch, Sheriff.”

Jackson sighed. “Fine, I’ll help.” Then, to Henry: “So, what happens next?

Henry got a refill of coffee and asked for more popcorn. “Well, Timothy Beals . . .”

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