Write me a Letter

nine. I was at the pathologist’s back here at ten-thirty. Yes, it is safe to say I am tired, Mr. Daniel, which is why I would like to press onward.”
    I complied instantly. ”Miss Braukis hired me to accompany a man she claimed was her Uncle Theo from LAX to the Star Hotel in Locke, giving me a deposit of six hundred dollars.” In traveler’s checks, I recalled bitterly; what were the chances of those being any good? ”She claimed Uncle Theo needed an escort as he spoke no English and she was otherwise engaged.”
    This time the lieutenant rubbed his eyes.
    ”Did she say why?”
    ”Why what? Why she was otherwise engaged or why she wanted him delivered to the Star Hotel?”
    ”Either, Mr. Daniel,” he said. ”Or both. I have the feeling it’s hardly going to matter.”
    ”The why she was otherwise engaged was she couldn’t leave her mother who had recently suffered a stroke. The why she wanted him delivered to the Star Hotel was to rendezvous with his brother.”
    ”Did you investigate either of these claims?”
    ”I certainly did,” I said virtuously. ”I established within minutes both claims were highly dubious.”
    ”However, you proceeded to meet ‘Uncle Theo’ in quotation marks and escort him northward, otherwise you would not have been at the Star Hotel.”
    ”That is correct, Lieutenant,” I said meekly.
    Kingfisher returned, balancing three paper cups of coffee awkwardly in one large hand. He gave two of them to his boss, the third to me, then returned to his bed.
    ”Thank you, Patrolman,” the lieutenant said. ”I cannot say you missed anything of great import. Why?” he then asked me. ”Why, why, and again, why?”
    ”Why not?” I responded, in the best Talmudic tradition. ”What could hurt? There’s no law against using a false name unless a fraud results. What did I care if he was really her uncle or her fairy godfather? I had half my money down, the other half to come, and all expenses covered, for a few hour’s work. I should get that kind of job offered me every day.” Well, not every day, maybe about once every millennium, or roughly as often as the Giants stand to win the World Series.
    ”Let us move on to your arrival in the picturesque town of Locke ,” said the lieutenant, ”unless significant events transpired en route, which I somehow doubt.”
    I thought about asking him if he knew what they did with all those goats, but desisted.
    ”What can I say?” I said. ”We arrived. We walked around town. Had lunch. Took a nap. Had supper. Watched TV Went to bed.”
    ”Inscribe,” said the lieutenant to his stooge. ”We are now getting to the gory details.”
    ”Despite a touch of indigestion brought on by a certain fondness I have for pork grease, I fell asleep almost immediately on retiring,” I said. ”I was awoken by a noise outside my window. I peeked out cautiously. I saw a man sneaking down the fire escape. Being a detective, and having taken an oath to uphold the law, as have others in this room, I snuck out after him to try and apprehend him, with no thought of my personal safety, armed only by my wits and years of experience.” The lieutenant didn’t even bother trying to cover up his yawn.
    ”I went right through one of the steps on that rotten fire escape,” I went on, bitterly. ”That guy had better be insured, is all I can say. Look at me! Look at this thing they got me wearing. I may never bowl again. I might have to have someone come in every morning to tie my shoelaces.”
    ”Buy some loafers,” suggested the lieutenant. ”Then what?”
    ”Then I landed on the goddamned rain barrel and broke my sacroiliac, is what,” I said. ”Then I saw Nature Boy lying next to me bleeding to death and only tried to save his life, that’s all, while World War Three was going on around me.” I took a long swig of the coffee and wished I hadn’t. The lieutenant did likewise. Kingfisher took out a stick of gum and began chomping on it. The lieutenant sighed deeply. I sighed even deeper.
    ”Patrolman,” the lieutenant said mildly after a moment, ”do you ever get the impression that someone is not telling you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but?”
    ”Sure,” he said promptly. ”I got two kids, remember.”
    ”And let me ask you this. What do you wear when you go to bed?”
    ”What do I wear? Pajama bottoms, mostly. Or nothing.” Kingfisher looked baffled.
    ”How about you, Mr. Daniel?”
    I pretended to look baffled.
    ”Me?