Odd Hours

corpses.
    “I want what you’ve got,” Shackett said.
    “What have I got?” I asked.
    “The juice.”
    “What juice?”
    “The stuff makes you psychic.”
    “There’s no stuff.”
    “What did you call the power? The furniture power?”
    “Telekinesis.”
    “I want that. I want the juice.”
    “I told you—one shot, it’s for life.”
    “That was bullshit.”
    If only he knew.
    No bull was involved.
    I can produce it without a bull.
    “One shot,” I insisted. “Then they have you.”
    “You say the government screwed you?”
    “I hate them. They screwed me good.”
    “Where is my gun?”
    “It’s in my face, sir. May I ask a question?”
    “Hell, no.”
    I nodded and bit my lip.
    He glared at me. “What?”
    “Why didn’t the coyotes tear you to pieces?”
    “What coyotes?”
    “When you let them into the Sunday school.”
    “Don’t try to make me think you’re crazy on drugs, Harry.”
    “I wouldn’t, sir.”
    “That would be as pathetic as the amnesia crap.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “My point is, if the government screwed you, then you would have sold out for twenty-five million.”
    “They would have killed my family.”
    “You’re not married.”
    “No. It’s my brother.”
    “Who cares about a brother?”
    “We’re twins. We’re so close.”
    “I don’t buy it, Harry.”
    “He’s paraplegic, see.”
    “So what?”
    “And he has a learning disability.”
    “A what?”
    “And he lost an eye in the war.”
    “What’re you pulling here?”
    “Iraq. My other brother, Jamie, he died there.”
    “Did that chair just move?”
    “No, sir.”
    “I thought I saw it move.”
    “No, sir.”
    “If it moves—”
    “Good-bye face. Yes, sir.”
    “You’ve got a one-eyed paraplegic brother.”
    “Yes, sir. With a learning disability.”
    “Does he have a harelip, too?”
    “No, sir.”
    “The first thing you said was true.”
    Astonished, I said, “It was?”
    “You know it was.”
    “And what first thing was that, sir?”
    “That the drug facilitated psychic powers for twelve hours.”
    “Twelve to eighteen. Yes, I remember saying that.”
    “I thought you would.”
    “That’s why you’re the chief of police.”
    “Don’t try sucking up to me, Harry.”
    “No, sir. That wouldn’t work with you.”
    “I’d love to blow your face off.”
    “I can feel your passion, sir.”
    “You take a pill a day,” he said.
    “Yes, sir, a multivitamin.”
    “The psychic pill. The tele-what pill.”
    “Telekinesis, sir.”
    “You take one a day.”
    “I guess I have to admit it, sir.”
    “Did that inkwell just move?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Where is my gun?”
    “It’s in my face, sir.”
    “If that inkwell moves.”
    “Good-bye face. Yes, sir.”
    We had developed an intricate litany.
    You would have thought we were in a Catholic rectory.
    “So you have to admit it, do you?”
    “Yes, sir. I have to admit it.”
    “So you have a supply of the pills.”
    “Yes, sir. I have quite a supply.”
    “I want those pills.”
    “I should warn you, sir.”
    “Warn me what?”
    “Telekinesis isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
    “Look at my face, Harry.”
    “I feel bad about that, sir.”
    “Shut up, shithead.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I think it’s everything it’s cracked up to be.”
    One of the redheaded gunmen appeared in the doorway behind Hoss Shackett.
    “Oh, Lordy,” I said.
    Shackett grinned. Some of his teeth were broken.
    Way to go, Mr. Sinatra.
    I wished Mr. Sinatra would deal with the redhead.
    But he had probably moved on to Paradise. Just my luck.
    “You’re in a corner now, aren’t you, Harry?”
    “I can’t catch a break.”
    The new arrival was the redhead with the methamphetamine teeth.
    “Don’t try that trick with me, Harry.”
    “What trick, sir?”
    “Pretending someone’s behind me.”
    “Someone is behind you, sir.”
    “So I’ll turn and look, and you’ll go for me.”
    “No, sir. He’s a friend of yours, and no friend of mine.”
    “Where’s my gun, Harry?”
    “It’s in my face, sir.”
    “Give me your pills.”
    “I don’t have them with me, sir.”
    “Where are they?”
    “In my pillbox.”
    “Where’s your pillbox?”
    “Chicago.”
    “I’m gonna blow your face off, Harry.”
    “Not without those pills, sir.”
    “I’ll torture it out of you. Don’t think I won’t.”
    “I haven’t mistaken you for a nun, sir.”
    “Stop scamming me with the over-the-shoulder look.”
    “No