Black House (Page 110)
- Page 1
- Page 1
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 2
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 3
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 4
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 5
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 6
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 7
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 8
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 9
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 10
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 11
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 12
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 13
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 14
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 15
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 16
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 17
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 18
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 19
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 20
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 21
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 22
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 23
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 24
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 25
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 26
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 27
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 28
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 29
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 30
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 162
- Page 163
- Page 163
- Page 164
- Page 164
- Page 165
- Page 165
- Page 166
- Page 166
- Page 167
- Page 167
- Page 168
- Page 168
- Page 169
- Page 169
- Page 170
- Page 170
- Page 171
- Page 171
- Page 172
- Page 172
- Page 173
- Page 173
- Page 174
- Page 174
- Page 175
- Page 175
- Page 176
- Page 176
- Page 177
- Page 177
- Page 178
- Page 178
- Page 179
- Page 179
- Page 180
- Page 180
- Page 181
- Page 181
- Page 182
- Page 182
- Page 183
- Page 183
- Page 184
- Page 184
- Page 185
- Page 185
- Page 186
- Page 186
- Page 187
- Page 187
- Page 188
- Page 188
- Page 189
- Page 189
- Page 190
- Page 190
- Page 191
- Page 191
- Page 192
- Page 192
- Page 193
- Page 193
- Page 194
- Page 194
- Page 195
- Page 195
- Page 196
- Page 196
- Page 197
- Page 197
- Page 198
- Page 198
- Page 199
- Page 199
- Page 200
- Page 200
- Page 201
- Page 201
- Page 202
- Page 202
- Page 203
- Page 203
- Page 204
- Page 204
- Page 205
- Page 205
- Page 206
- Page 206
- Page 207
- Page 207
- Page 208
- Page 208
- Page 209
- Page 209
- Page 210
- Page 210
- Page 211
- Page 211
- Page 212
- Page 212
- Page 213
- Page 213
- Page 214
- Page 214
- Page 215
- Page 215
- Page 216
- Page 216
- Page 217
- Page 217
- Page 218
- Page 218
- Page 219
- Page 219
- Page 220
- Page 220
- Page 221
- Page 221
- Page 222
- Page 222
- Page 223
- Page 223
- Page 224
- Page 224
- Page 225
- Page 225
- Page 226
- Page 226
- Page 227
- Page 227
- Page 228
- Page 228
- Page 229
- Page 229
The smell is coming from 307. If we slip through the keyhole (there have never been keycards at the Nelson and never will be), we’ll be in the presence of Andrew Railsback, seventy, balding, scrawny, good-humored. He once sold vacuum cleaners for Electrolux and appliances for Sylvania, but those days are behind him now. These are his golden years.
A candidate for Maxton’s, we might think, but Andy Railsback knows that place, and places like it. Not for him, thanks. He’s sociable enough, but he doesn’t want people telling him when to go to bed, when to get up, and when he can have a little nip of Early Times. He has friends in Maxton’s, visits them often, and has from time to time met the sparkling, shallow, predatory eye of our pal Chipper. He has thought on more than one such occasion that Mr. Maxton looks like the sort of fellow who would happily turn the corpses of his graduates into soap if he thought he could turn a buck on it.
No, for Andy Railsback, the third floor of the Nelson Hotel is good enough. He has his hot plate; he has his bottle of hooch; he’s got four packs of Bicycles and plays big-picture solitaire on nights when the sandman loses his way.
This evening he has made three Lipton Cup-A-Soups, thinking he’ll invite Irving Throneberry in for a bowl and a chat. Maybe afterward they’ll go next door to Lucky’s and grab a beer. He checks the soup, sees it has attained a nice simmer, sniffs the fragrant steam, and nods. He also has saltines, which go well with soup. He leaves the room to make his way upstairs and knock on Irv’s door, but what he sees in the hallway stops him cold.
It’s an old man in a shapeless blue robe, walking away from him with suspicious quickness. Beneath the hem of the robe, the stranger’s legs are as white as a carp’s belly and marked with blue snarls of varicose veins. On his left foot is a fuzzy black-and-yellow slipper. His right foot is bare. Although our new friend can’t tell for sure — not with the guy’s back to him — he doesn’t look like anyone Andy knows.
Also, he’s trying doorknobs as he wends his way along the main third-floor hall. He gives each one a single hard, quick shake. Like a turnkey. Or a thief. A f**king thief.
Yeah. Although the man is obviously old — older than Andy, it looks like — and dressed as if for bed, the idea of thievery resonates in Andy’s mind with queer certainty. Even the one bare foot, arguing that the fellow probably didn’t come in off the street, has no power over this strong intuition.
Andy opens his mouth to call out — something like Can I help you? or Looking for someone? — and then changes his mind. He just has this feeling about the guy. It has to do with the fleet way the stranger scurries along as he tries the knobs, but that’s not all of it. Not all of it by any means. It’s a feeling of darkness and danger. There are pockets in the geezer’s robe, Andy can see them, and there might be a weapon in one of them. Thieves don’t always have weapons, but . . .
The old guy turns the corner and is gone. Andy stands where he is, considering. If he had a phone in his room, he might call downstairs and alert Morty Fine, but he doesn’t. So, what to do?
After a brief interior debate, he tiptoes down the hall to the corner and peeps around. Here is a cul-de-sac with three doors: 312, 313, and, at the very end, 314, the only room in that little appendix which is currently occupied. The man in 314 has been there since the spring, but almost all Andy knows about him is his name: George Potter. Andy has asked both Irv and Hoover Dalrymple about Potter, but Hoover doesn’t know jack-shit and Irv has learned only a little more.
"You must," Andy objected — this conversation took place in late May or early June, around the time the Buckhead Lounge downstairs went dark. "I seen you in Lucky’s with him, havin’ a beer."
Irv had lifted one bushy eyebrow in that cynical way of his. "Seen me havin’ a beer with him. What are you?" he’d rasped. "My f**kin’ wife?"
"I’m just saying. You drink a beer with a man, you have a little conversation — "
"Usually, maybe. Not with him. I sat down, bought a pitcher, and mostly got the dubious pleasure of listenin’ to myself think. I say, ‘What do you think about the Brewers this year?’ and he says, ‘They’ll suck, same as last year. I can get the Cubs at night on my rah-dio — ‘ "
"That the way he said it? Rah-dio?"
"Well, it ain’t the way I say it, is it? You ever heard me say rah-dio? I say radio, same as any normal person. You want to hear this or not?"
"Don’t sound like there’s much to hear."
"You got that right, buddy. He says, ‘I can get the Cubs at night on my rah-dio, and that’s enough for me. I always went to Wrigley with my dad when I was a kid.’ So I found out he was from Chi, but otherwise, bupkes."
The first thought to pop into Andy’s mind upon glimpsing the f**king thief in the third-floor corridor had been Potter, but Mr. George I-Keep-to-Myself Potter is a tall drink of water, maybe six-four, still with a pretty good head of salt-and-pepper hair. Mr. One-Slipper was shorter than that, hunched over like a toad. (A poison toad, at that is the thought that immediately rises in Andy’s mind.)
He’s in there, Andy thinks. Fucking thief’s in Potter’s room, maybe going through Potter’s drawers, looking for a little stash. Fifty or sixty rolled up in the toe of a sock, like I used to do. Or stealing Potter’s radio. His f**king rah-dio.
Well, and what was that to him? You passed Potter in the hallway, gave him a civil good morning or good afternoon, and what you got back was an uncivil grunt. Bupkes, in other words. You saw him in Lucky’s, he was drinking alone, far side of the jukebox. Andy guessed you could sit down with him and he’d split a pitcher with you — Irv’s little tête-à-tête with the man proved that much — but what good was that without a little chin-jaw to go along with it? Why should he, Andrew Railsback, risk the wrath of some poison toad in a bathrobe for the sake of an old grump who wouldn’t give you a yes, no, or maybe?
- Page 1
- Page 1
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 2
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 3
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 4
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 5
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 6
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 7
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 8
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 9
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 10
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 11
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 12
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 13
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 14
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 15
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 16
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 17
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 18
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 19
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 20
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 21
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 22
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 23
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 24
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 25
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 26
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 27
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 28
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 29
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 30
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 162
- Page 163
- Page 163
- Page 164
- Page 164
- Page 165
- Page 165
- Page 166
- Page 166
- Page 167
- Page 167
- Page 168
- Page 168
- Page 169
- Page 169
- Page 170
- Page 170
- Page 171
- Page 171
- Page 172
- Page 172
- Page 173
- Page 173
- Page 174
- Page 174
- Page 175
- Page 175
- Page 176
- Page 176
- Page 177
- Page 177
- Page 178
- Page 178
- Page 179
- Page 179
- Page 180
- Page 180
- Page 181
- Page 181
- Page 182
- Page 182
- Page 183
- Page 183
- Page 184
- Page 184
- Page 185
- Page 185
- Page 186
- Page 186
- Page 187
- Page 187
- Page 188
- Page 188
- Page 189
- Page 189
- Page 190
- Page 190
- Page 191
- Page 191
- Page 192
- Page 192
- Page 193
- Page 193
- Page 194
- Page 194
- Page 195
- Page 195
- Page 196
- Page 196
- Page 197
- Page 197
- Page 198
- Page 198
- Page 199
- Page 199
- Page 200
- Page 200
- Page 201
- Page 201
- Page 202
- Page 202
- Page 203
- Page 203
- Page 204
- Page 204
- Page 205
- Page 205
- Page 206
- Page 206
- Page 207
- Page 207
- Page 208
- Page 208
- Page 209
- Page 209
- Page 210
- Page 210
- Page 211
- Page 211
- Page 212
- Page 212
- Page 213
- Page 213
- Page 214
- Page 214
- Page 215
- Page 215
- Page 216
- Page 216
- Page 217
- Page 217
- Page 218
- Page 218
- Page 219
- Page 219
- Page 220
- Page 220
- Page 221
- Page 221
- Page 222
- Page 222
- Page 223
- Page 223
- Page 224
- Page 224
- Page 225
- Page 225
- Page 226
- Page 226
- Page 227
- Page 227
- Page 228
- Page 228
- Page 229
- Page 229