The Nude On The Cigarette Case by Regis McCafferty

Author:Regis McCafferty [McCafferty, Regis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781491700112
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2013-07-25T00:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

I thought about stopping by to see Jake Resnick. But it was past noon by the time I got to the Brownsville area of Brooklyn so I went to the tobacco shop a half block away from Jake’s place. It’s a small store, warm, and filled with the aroma of cigars and pipe tobacco. The owner is Michael Doogan, a mick who is affectionately known as Mick. In his fifties, short, squat, red faced and with red hair, he’s always ready with a smile and a joke, usually Irish.

The bell above the door tinkled as I walked in. Mick was at the side counter filling one of the pipe tobacco jars and turned to greet me.

“Ah, Mister Max, did you hear about the Feeney’s?”

“No, Mick, I didn’t.” I don’t know any Feeney’s but knew it was a joke coming on.

“Well, Mrs. Feeney shouts to the Mister from the kitchen, is that you I hear spittin’ in the vase on the mantel piece? And himself says, no, but I’m getting’ closer all the time.”

We both laughed as he set the jar down and came to the main counter in the center of the shop. “An’ what can I be getting’ for ya today, Lad?”

“Couple pouches of Edgeworth and a package of pipe cleaners should do it.”

“Right ya are. Have you tried other tobaccos?”

“A couple. Prince Albert and Velvet. They seemed lighter than Edgeworth.”

“Aye, they are. Have you tried Granger?”

“No. Is it like Edgeworth?”

“Yes and no. It’s medium strength like Edgeworth but the cut is different. Not quite as sweet either. Might be a nice change for you from time to time.”

“Okay, I’ll try a pouch.”

I paid and was headed out the door when he called after me.

“The Feeney’s have another problem as well.”

“What’s that?”

“He says the walls in his flat are so thin that every time he asks his wife a question, he gets three different answers.”

I figured I’d walk to Ari’s and was still smiling as I walked down Livonia Avenue. The weather was chilly but clear and I had about twenty minutes to kill. Time enough to enjoy a bowl of tobacco, so I opened the pouch of Granger. Mick was right: longer pieces and looked as if it had been pressed together and then broken apart. It tasted good, though, and had a nice nutty aroma. I took my time walking up Hinsdale and emptied my pipe as I got to the front door of Ari’s apartment building and rang the buzzer.

She must have been waiting because it was less than thirty seconds before the door opened and I was greeted with a smile.

“Hello, Max.”

“Hello. Ari.” I wanted to say, “Hello, delicious,” but that would have left the wrong impression. Right for me but wrong for her. She was wearing a pale yellow knee length dress with blue piping around the low cut neck that showed off a string of small pearls. It also showed off a hint of cleavage. I wanted to take the hint but instead, I mentally told myself to behave.

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