Death Is a Lonely Business (Crumley Mysteries 1)

He was hilarious.

Which made him all the more terrible.

“Those books,” said Shrank at last, breaking the spell, not looking at them, staring up at the moon, “they don’t care for me. Why should I care for them?”

“But—”

“Besides,” said Shrank, “would anyone really want to steal Decline of the West?”

“I thought you loved your collection!”

“Loved r He blinked once. “My God, don’t you see? I hate everything. Name it, there’s nothing in the world I like.”

He strode off in the direction Henry had taken with his taxicab.

“Now,” he said, “coming or not?”

“Coming,” I said.

“Is that a weapon?”

We walked slowly, feeling each other out. I was amazed to find Henry’s cane in my hands.

“No, an antenna, I think,” I said.

“Of a very large insect?”

“A very blind one.”

“Can he find his way without it, and where’s he going this time of night?”

“Running errands. Back immediately,” I lied.

Shrank was a lie detector. He almost writhed with delight at my voice. He quickened his pace, then stopped to examine me.

“I take it he steers by his nose. I heard what you asked and what he answered back.”

“Armpits?” I said.

Shrank shriveled inside his old clothes. His eyes darted first to his left, then to his right underarm and down along a vast history of stains and time’s discolorings.

“Armpits,” I said again.

It was a bullet in toe heart.

Shrank staggered, then firmed himself.

“Why and where are we walking?” he gasped. I could sense the rabbit palpitation under his greasy tie.

“I thought you were leading the way. I only know one thing.” I moved, this time half a step ahead of him. “Blind Henry was searching for some unwashed shirts, dirty underclothes, bad breath. He found and named them for me.”

I did not repeat the dread epithet. But Shrank, with each word, was diminished.

“Why would a blind man want me?” said Shrank at last.

I didn’t want to give it all away at once. I had to test and try. “Because of Janus, the Green Envy Weekly” I said. “I’ve seen copies in your place, through your window.”

That was pure lie, but it struck midriff.