…as I figger it Methuselah could of had over three hunnert thousand hangovers…
Monroe D. Underwood
I sat on the steps of the Brownleaf Avenue Public Library and fired up a crooked Camel.
Out on Brownleaf the big trucks went by belching noise and plumes of black diesel smoke.
In a hurry to go and in a hurry to get back.
Like mice in little wire wheels.
Progress.
As good a name as any.
They have to call it something.
An elderly lady came out of the library.
She wore a long black dress and high-topped shoes.
Her snowy hair was a bright white beacon in the September morning sunlight.
I glanced at my watch.
Ten-thirty.
Hepzibah Dodd was right on the money.
She passed within three feet of me.
She carried a polka-dot umbrella and a copy of An Inquiry Into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.
By Adam Smith.
Leave it to a guy named Smith to come up with a title like that.
Anybody else would have called the damn thing “$.”
I watched Hepzibah Dodd hobble across Brownleaf Avenue.
She entered the Fall Out Inn at the corners of Brownleaf and Amsterdam.
I got up and followed.
She was parked in a booth near a wall telephone.
She was browsing through An Inquiry Into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.
By Adam Smith.
I sat at the bar and kept tabs on her reflection in the backbar mirror.
A waitress brought her a martini.
I ordered a bottle of Old Washensachs and nursed it along until I saw the old gal go to work on her olive.
Then I walked to a rickety telephone booth in the rear.
I took out my notebook and dialed the number Mrs. Jonesberry had given me.
The phone rang twice.
A familiar high-pitched nasal voice said hi there whoever.
I said Mrs. Jonesberry this is Chance Purdue reporting in.
Mrs. Jonesberry said Chance who?
I said Purdue.
I said like the university.
I said Purdue with the Big Ten.
Mrs. Jonesberry said young man I think you’re bragging.
I said Mrs. Jonesberry you hired me last night on the telephone.
Mrs. Jonesberry said oh of course.
She said the private detective.
She said have you picked up the trail of Hepzibah Dodd?
I said nothing to it.
I said she was in the library just like you figured.
I said now she’s in a tavern at Brownleaf and Amsterdam.
Mrs. Jonesberry said what’s she doing?
I said she’s eating an olive and reading An Inquiry Into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.
I said by Adam Smith.
I peered through the murky window of the telephone booth.
I said scratch that.
I said now she’s on the phone.
I chuckled.
I said probably getting a bet down.
Mrs. Jonesberry whistled.
She said Purdue you’re a clever devil.
I said so what do I do now?
Mrs. Jonesberry said wait until she gets off the phone and ask her for a match.
She said approach her just as you would approach a young and beautiful woman.
I said whoa.
I said Mrs. Jonesberry what’s this all about?
I said I don’t want to end up in bed with Methuselah’s great-grandmother.
Mrs. Jonesberry’s high-pitched nasal voice took on a raspy edge.
She said Purdue when I phoned for your services I didn’t ask questions did I?
I said no ma’am.
Mrs. Jonesberry said you’re going to get paid aren’t you?
I shrugged.
I said okay Mrs. Jonesberry.
Mrs. Jonesberry said that’s much better.
She said Hepzibah Dodd is a very hot old number.
She said she’ll probably invite you right up to her apartment.
I said but my God she got fifty years on Grandma Moses.
Mrs. Jonesberry said Grandma Moses is dead.
I said I stand on my statement.
Mrs. Jonesberry said Purdue that’s twice goddammit.
I said sorry Mrs. Jonesberry.
Mrs. Jonesberry said you are to accompany Hepzibah Dodd with no discussion whatsoever.
I shrugged.
I said well that’s probably for the best.
I said there’s nothing we could discuss anyway.
I said the Civil War is over.
I said the North won.
Mrs. Jonesberry sighed.
She said I’ll be in contact with you very soon.
She said any questions?
I said you better believe it.
I said how do I get out of Hepzibah Dodd’s apartment?
Mrs. Jonesberry hung up.
I shrugged.
Well what the hell.
Seventy-five bucks was seventy-five bucks.
I came out of the telephone booth as Hepzibah Dodd left the wall phone and tottered back to her seat.
I shoved a bent Camel into my mouth and sauntered slowly in her direction.
She was watching me out of the corner of her eye.
She put a hand to her white hair.
I said hi toots you got a match?
Hepzibah Dodd smiled a faded smile.
She picked up her copy of An Inquiry Into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.
By Adam Smith.
She stood and grabbed my arm.
She had a grip like a brand-new bear trap.
Her voice was quavery.
She said of course big boy.
She said in my apartment.