The Death of an ardent Bibliophile by Bartholomew Gill

Author:Bartholomew Gill [Gill, Bartholomew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0786205733
Publisher: Thorndike Press, USA
Published: 1995-02-09T23:00:00+00:00

Then I met yerh maw,

She was raw,

She said, ‘You better leave wee Willie alone.’

Ah—young blood! I say, young blood!

Young blood—I can’t get yiz out o’ me moind!

An extended drumroll with much thumping of the bass completed the song.

Baer pushed up the sleeves of the warmup jacket and ruffed the bald spot on the top of his head.

Said Ward, ‘So far I’ve got you procuring and promoting an indecent act. And theft. Shall we add murder to it? No jury, watching you fetch, then pour the potion that killed Herrick, will acquit you. Not with your record.’

Ward pulled out a computer printout of the Bunny’s rap sheet that began with a child-molestation charge at age eighteen and ran a steady gamut of vice offenses, including atrocious assault upon a woman for whom he had been pimping. It was dismissed when the woman refused to testify. The Bunny was much less mild than he seemed, at least with women. Ward scaled the sheet down at Baer’s New Balance runners.

Baer did not touch it. ‘Well—I figured the gobshite owed me. Every time we went over there, he had his camera runnin’, and what happened there tops anyt’ing that could happen here.’ He waved a hand at the door, where Teddy could now be heard delivering her monologue. ‘And the roights’—Baer thumped his chest—‘was mine!’

Ward assumed he meant the rights to Teddy’s performances.

‘Who knows what he had in mind for them. I t’ought maybe I’d get some blokes I know to take them back for me.’

Too careful to do it himself, thought Ward, ‘Their share being…?’

‘Whatever they could take away from the place, which would be their business. There was some nice things in that place.’

‘So, you made a couple of copies of the keys.’

Baers eyes rose to Ward, who with his leather jacket, jeans, and snakeskin boots looked young and inexperienced; obviously he was at least several steps ahead of Baer.

‘Remember, it’s murder.’

Baer sighed and muttered, ‘I still have two sets.’ He reached into a pocket of the warmup suit and pulled out two key rings. ‘The originals and this other. I laid the third off on a bloke I heard of. But you know as well as me nothing’s been taken. Before I could set things up, Herrick died, and you put a bleedin’ guard on the house, front and back.’

‘What bloke?’

‘Ah—‘ Yet again the hand passed over shiny pate. ‘Christ.’

Teddy had begun another song:

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