Short Fiction Complete by Jack Skillingstead

Author:Jack Skillingstead [Skillingstead, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

They caught a yellow cab in front of the diner. It looked pre-World War II vintage, a Hudson or something. But it wasn’t that normal. The windshield was so narrow that it was barely more than a slot. Climbing in, Norman noticed the driver’s side wing mirror looked like a big human ear cast in silver. The driver wore a visored cap pulled snug over his eyebrows. He stared at his lap while he drove.

“So, you know who the thief is,” Norman said to the dog. They were sitting together in the back seat.

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“It’s one man.”

“Who is he?”

“You’ll know him when you see him.”

“When I see him I plan to knock his teeth down his throat. That is, after he gives me back my property, my memories.”

“It isn’t memories that he’s stolen. Look inward. There are no gaps in your memory.”

It was true. Norman remembered everything about his first love, for instance. Nevertheless she was gone.

“Well he took something. A lot of somethings. And I want them back. My mind is full of holes.”

“I know. But really there’s only one thing missing, trust me.” Scout barked twice, and the driver tucked the cab into the curb. “This is the place,” Scout said in Norman’s head.

Norman leaned over and looked out the passenger window on the dog’s side of the cab. A brick hotel, six stories high, loomed over the sidewalk. A sign above the lobby entrance said: THE MIDTOWN. Norman threw the door open, and Scout hopped out ahead of him. They stood together on the sidewalk. THE MIDTOWN leaned so much it appeared in danger of tumbling its bricks into the street.

“Top floor,” Scout said. “Room 606. Lots of luck.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Confrontations give me a runny stool. Also, I’m a pacifist at heart.”

Norman looked up the cock-eyed face of the hotel. A raft of clouds drifted under the moon.

“I won’t really hurt him,” Norman said, “not if he returns what’s mine.”

“I’m not worried about you hurting him. Watch yourself, Norm. This is a rough town.”

Scout started walking away, nails clicking on the paving.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Lady’s Room, sugar. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“You mean if I get back, is that it?”

“Fiddle-de-de.”

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