The Fabulous Clipjoint by Fredric Brown (free ebook reader TXT) 📕

I said, “Mom’s drunk. Three hours to the funeral. Hurry up.”

I handed her a wrapper or robe or whatever it was off the back of a chair, and hurried out. Her footsteps came right behind me.

I said, “In her bedroom. I’ll get the water going.” I went into the bathroom and turned on the cold water in the tub. I turned it on all the way; it would splash out for a while while the tub was empty, but to hell with that.

Back in the bedroom, Gardie had gone right to work. She was taking off Mom’s shoes and stockings.

She asked, “How did she do it? Where were you?”

I said, “I was out from eight till just now. She must have got up about the time I left and gone right down and bought the bottle. She’s had a full three-hour start.”

I took Mom’s shoulders and Gardie took her knees and we got her on the bed and started working her dress off over her head.

I got worried about something. I said, “She’s got another slip she can wear, hasn’t she?”

“Sure. Think we can get her around in time?”

“We got to. Leave her slip on then. The hell with it. Come on; we’ll walk her to the bathroom.”

She was a dead weight. We couldn’t walk her. We had to half-carry half-drag her, finally, but we got her there.

The tub was full by then. Getting her into it was the hardest part. Gardie and I both got pretty wet, too. But we got her in.

I told Gardie, “Keep her head out. I’ll start some coffee and make it thick as soup.”

Gardie said, “Open a window in her room and let that smell out.”

I said, “I did. I opened a window to air it out.”

I turned on the fire under the kettle and put coffee in the pot ready to pour water through. I put in as much as it would hold, way up to the top.

I ran back to the bathroom. Gardie had tied a towel around Mom’s hair and was splashing cold water in her face. She was waking up. She was moaning a little and trying to move her head to get away from the splashing water. She was shivering, and her arms and shoulders were covered with goose flesh from the cold water.

Gardie said, “She’s coming around. But I don’t know—My God, Eddie, three hours—”

“A little less,” I said. “Listen, when she comes to, you can help her out of the tub and help her dry off. I’m going down to the drugstore. There’s some stuff. I don’t know what you call it.”

I went in my room and quick put on a dry shirt and pair of pants. I’d have to wear my everyday suit to the funeral, but that couldn’t be helped.

When I went by the bathroom the door was closed and I could hear Gardie’s voice and Mom’s. It was thick and fuzzy, but it wasn’t hysterical and she wasn’t cursing or anything. Maybe we can do it in time, I thought.

The coffee water was boiling. I poured it in the dripolator top and put a low bead of fire under the dripolator to keep it hot.

I went down to Klassen’s drugstore. I figured I’d do better to level with him, because I knew him and I knew he wouldn’t talk about it. So I told him enough of the truth.

“We got proprietary stuff,” he said. “It’s not so hot. I’ll fix you something.”

“Her breath, too,” I said. “She’ll have to be close to people at the funeral. You got to give me something for that.”

We did it. We got her straightened out.

*

The funeral was beautiful.

I didn’t mind it, really. It wasn’t exactly Pop’s funeral, to me. When I’d been alone with him, there in the little room, well, that was it, as far as I was concerned. I’d said good-bye to him, sort of, then.

This was just something you had to go through with, on account of other people and out of respect for Pop.

I sat on one side of Mom, and Gardie on the other. Uncle Ambrose sat next to me on the other side.

After the funeral, Jake, the foreman from the shop, came up to me. He said, “You’re coming back, aren’t you, Ed?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’m coming back.”

“Take as long as you want. Things are slow right now.”

I said, “I’ve got something I want to do, Jake. Would a week or two weeks be all right?”

“As long as you want. Like I said, we’re slack now. But don’t change your mind about coming back. It won’t be the same, working there, without your dad. But you’re getting a good start at a good trade. We want you back.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’m coming back.”

He said, “There’s some stuff in your dad’s locker. Shall we send it over to your place, or do you want to drop in and get it?”

“I’ll drop in and get it,” I said. “I want to pick up the check I’ve got coming for three days, too. Dad’s got one too; Monday through Wednesday.”

“I’ll tell the office to have ‘em both made out and ready for you, Ed,” Jake said.

After the cemetery, after they’d thrown dirt on the coffin, Uncle Ambrose came home with us.

We sat around and there wasn’t much to say. Uncle Ambrose suggested we play some cards, and he and Mom and I played for a little while. We played rummy.

When he left, I walked out in the hall with him. He said, “Take it easy this evening, kid. Rest up and get set for action. And look me up at the hotel tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay,” I told him. “But isn’t there anything I can do this evening?”

“Nope,” he said. “I’m seeing Bassett, but no reason for you to go along. I’m going to put a bug in his ear about investigating who lives in those apartments with their back porches on the alley. He can do the spade work better than we can, and if there’s a lead, we’ll dig in there, too.”

“Too? You mean, Kaufman?”

“Yeah. He was lying about something at the inquest. You saw that, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t sure,” I said.

“I was. That’s where Bassett missed the boat. But we’ll take care of it. Look me up about the middle of the afternoon. I’ll wait in my room.”

At about seven o’clock, Mom thought it might be a good idea if I took Gardie to a movie, down in the Loop maybe.

I thought, why not?

Maybe Mom wanted to be alone. I studied her, without seeming to watch her, while Gardie was looking over the movie ads in the paper. Mom didn’t look or act like she was getting ready to drink again.

She sure shouldn’t want to, I thought, after this morning.

That had been bad, but she’d snapped out of it beautifully. At the funeral she’d talked to people and everything and none of them could have guessed. I didn’t think even Uncle Ambrose had guessed what had happened. Nobody but me and Gardie and Klassen, the druggist.

Her eyes had been red and her face puffy, but then they’d have been that way anyway from crying.

She really loved Pop, I thought.

Gardie wanted to go to a show that sounded like a mess of mush to me, but there was a good swing orchestra on the stage, so I didn’t argue.

I was right; the picture smelled. But the ork had a brass section that was out of the world. Way out. They had two trombones that knew what it was all about. One of them, the one that took solos, was as good as Teagarden, I thought. Maybe not on the fast stuff, but he had a tone that went down inside you.

I thought, I’d give a million bucks to do that, if I had a million bucks.

The finale was a jump number and Gardie’s feet got restless. She wanted to go somewhere and dance, but I said nix. Going to a show was bad enough, the night of the day of the funeral.

When we got home, Mom wasn’t there.

I read a magazine awhile, and then turned in.

*

I woke up in the middle of the night. There were voices. Mom’s, pretty drunk. Another voice that sounded familiar but that I couldn’t place.

It was none of my business but I was curious whose voice that was. I finally got out of bed and went to the door where I was closer. But the male voice quit talking and the door closed.

I hadn’t heard a word of it, just the voices.

I heard Mom go into her room and close the door. From the way she walked she’d been drinking plenty, but she was under better control than this morning. She hadn’t sounded hysterical or anything; the voices had been friendly.

I decided not to worry about the window.

Back in bed, I lay there for a long time thinking, trying to place that voice.

Then I got it. It was Bassett, the homicide dick, with the faded red hair and the faded eyes.

I wonder, I thought. Maybe he thinks she did it, and got her drunk to pump her. I didn’t like that.

Maybe that wasn’t the reason at all, and I don’t know that I liked that any better. If Bassett was on the make, I mean. I remembered he’d said he had a sick wife.

I didn’t like either one. And if he was combining business with pleasure, well—that made him more of a Grade A bastard than either one would alone. And I’d liked the guy. Even after he’d taken a bribe from Uncle Ambrose, I’d liked him.

I couldn’t get to sleep for a while. I didn’t like anything I thought of.

I woke up in the morning with a bad taste in my mouth.

There was still that muggy dampness in the air. I thought, am I going to wake up every morning at seven, whether I set that damn alarm or not?

It wasn’t until I was up and getting dressed that it occurred to me Bassett might be okay after all. I mean, I could have been wrong on both counts. Mom could have gone out to make the rounds of Clark Street and he could have run into her accidentally and brought her home. For her own good, I mean.

I got dressed and I didn’t know what to do.

While I was drinking coffee, Gardie came out into the kitchen.

“Hi, Eddie,” she said. “Can’t sleep. Might as well get up, huh?”

“Might as well,” I agreed.

“Keep some coffee hot, will you?”

“Sure.”

She went back to her room and dressed and then came and sat across the table from me. I poured her some coffee and she got a sweet roll from the breadbox.

“Eddie,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“What time did Mom get home last night?”

“I don’t know.”

“You mean you didn’t hear her come in at all?” She started to get up, like she was going to Mom’s room to be sure she was there.

“She’s home,” I said. “I heard her come in. I just meant I didn’t know what time it was. I didn’t look at the clock.”

“Pretty late, though?”

“I guess it was. I’d been asleep. She’ll probably sleep till noon.”

She nibbled at the roll thoughtfully. Always there’d be lipstick on the roll where she’d bitten it. I wondered why she bothered to put on lipstick before