Angels in Heaven

big bucks. What does
he care for a couple of thou to get you off his back?”
    “In that case,” Goose said, “I
probably could find a little free time later in the week. Just tell me where
and when, friend, but let us make it somewheres reasonably public, you know
what I mean. I’d feel better about things if we didn’t meet up like in the
middle of some desert at midnight.”
    I said I caught his drift and I’d get
back to him in a day or two with the details, maybe some afternoon in a park or
a bowling alley or whatever.
    “OK by me,” he said. “Thanks for
calling, friend. Say hello to J. J. for me.”
    “Will do,” I said, and we both hung
up. All right, amigos, from the sound of him and from what Carstairs had to say
about him, it didn’t look like the Goose would be any match for the likes of V.
Daniel in full swing. I suppose I could have met up with him that afternoon and
had a go at him, but it would give me more of an edge if I had Benjamin with me
and it was remotely possible Benny might tear himself and Doris away from their
tropical idyll (on me) in a couple of days. Also, if I gave Goose more time to
get his hopes up, he’d have even farther to fall when we lowered the boom on
him. Finally, I needed a day or two to prepare a surprise package I had in mind
for Peter “Goose” Berry, something I knew he’d adore.
    I reached for the phone book again
and began working on that aspect of the venture by turning to the Fs, F for
finger. Under “Finger” I of course found nothing helpful, nor did I expect to—I
was merely amusing myself, if you must know—what a card. I turned then to the
more likely entries— hospital and medical supply companies.
    Ever tried to buy a couple of
fingers? Or a thumb or two? It’s not as easy as one might think. Too bad Billy
hadn’t kept his and slipped them to me in the paper bag along with Shorty, my
little paperweight. I started by telephoning something called the Cal. West
Hosp. Sply. & Equip.
    “Hello,” said a lady’s voice. “Cal. West. Can I help you?”
    “You don’t happen to sell parts of
the human body, do you, m’am?” I said. “Fingers, specifically.”
    “What are you, some kind of nut?”
    She slammed the receiver down.
    “Thumbs would do,” I said into the
dial tone. Finally a nice, helpful girl at Morgan Med. Ltd. told me what I was
doing wrong just before I phoned up Blades and asked him to see what he could
do free-lance. What I ultimately got on to was a medical laboratory supplier,
and did they have human bodies and all parts thereof, to say nothing of
animals, ditto. Arms, hands, torsos, everything including complete skeletons,
although those were now plastic, the man I was talking to informed me. He
quoted me a price for two adult fingers, which I found steep to say the least,
but he explained I was paying for the whole hand, as they had no call and thus
no price list as such for individual digits. I said I understood completely but
really had no need for a whole hand, and perhaps someone there might be kind
enough to hack off a couple of fingers for me and wrap them up separate, and
they could keep the rest on me for the trouble.
    He said sure, no problem, but then
wanted to know which medical facility I was calling for.
    “Eh, none,” I said. “I’m doing
private research.”
    No sale, he said, without an order
form from an accredited medical school, research center, or the like.
    “How about an M.D.?” I said.
    “Sure, no problem,” he said. I said
I’d get back to him.
    My own doc had just retired and was
on a year’s cruise around the globe, spending (partly) my money, and I didn’t
want to bother Mom’s regular specialist for something so seemingly foolish, so
I bothered Doctor Don instead. He owed me one, did he not? When he finally came
to the phone and was done laughing, he of course wanted to know what I wanted
them for. I told him—to frighten the five o’clock shadow off a two-bit chiseler
who was leaning on one of my clients. I gave him the name of the company I’d
just talked to, and he said he’d get a note to me in the mail immediately that
should do the trick, which he did, because it got to me by Wednesday, in the
evening of which, as it happened, Benny and Sara returned.
    They both promptly phoned me up at
home, where Evonne and I were sipping strawberry daiquiris, holding hands, and
watching TV, to tell me they were back safely and how tanned they were and what
a good time they had on