A Dirty Job Chapter 7

7THANATOASTWhile Charlies Beta Male imagination may get often turned him toward timidity and even paranoia, when it came to accepting the inconceivable it served him like Kevlar toilet paper bulletproof, if a tad disagreeable in application. The inability to believe the unbelievable would not be his scratch dispatchfall. Charlie Asher would never be a bug splattered on the smoky windscreen of dull imagination.He knew that all the things that had happened to him in the coating day were show upside of the limits of possibility for most people, and since his exclusively corroborating witness was a humanity who believed himself to be the Emperor of San Francisco, Charlie knew he would never be able to convince anyone that he had been pursued and attacked by giant foulmouthed ravens and wherefore declared the tour guide to the undiscovered country by a sultry oracle in fuck-me pumps.Not even Jane would give him that kind of quarter. provided one person would have, could have, and for the ten-thousandth time he felt Rachels absence collapsing in his thorax like a miniature black hole. Thus, Sophie became his co-conspirator.The tiny kid, dressed in Elmo overalls and baby Doc Martens (courtesy of Aunt Jane), was propped up in her elevator car seat on the breakfast bar next to the goldfish bowl. (Charlie had bought her six big goldfish almost the time shed started to notice moving objects. A girl needs pets. Hed named them after TV lawyers. Currently Matlock was tracking Perry Mason, trying to eat a ache strand of fish doo that was trailing out of Perrys poop chute.)Sophie was starting to show some of her m others dark hair, and if Charlie saw it right, the same expression of bemused affection toward him (plus a drool slick).So I am Death, Charlie said as he tried to construct a tuna-fish sandwich. Daddy is Death, sweetie. He checked the toast, not bank the pop-up mechanism because the toaster people sometimes just liked to fuck with you.Death, Charlie said as the can opener slipped and he barked his bandaged hand on the counter. DammitSophie gurgled and let loose a happy baby burble, which Charlie took to mean Do tell, Daddy? Please go on, pray tell.I cant even leave the sign of the zodiac for fear of someone dropping dead at my feet. Im Death, honey. Sure, you laugh now, moreover youll never get into a good preschool with a father who puts people down for their dirt nap.Sophie blew a spit bubble of sympathy. Charlie popped the toast up manually. It was a subaltern rare, but if he pushed it down again it would burn, unless he watched it every help and popped it up manually again. So now hed probably be infected with some rare and debilitating undercooked toast pathogen. Mad toast disease turnkey toaster people.This is the toast of Death, young lady. He showed her the toast. Deaths toast.He put the toast on the counter and went back to attacking the tuna can.Maybe she was speaking figuratively? I mean, maybe the redhead just meant that I was, you jazz, deadly boring. Of course that didnt really explain all the other weird stuff that had been happening. You think? he asked Sophie.He looked for an answer and the kid was wearing that Rachelesque smart-ass grin (minus teeth). She was enjoying his torment, and strangely enough, he felt better knowing that.The can opener slipped again, spurting tuna juice on his shirt and sending his toast scooting to the floor, and now there was fuzz on it. Fuzz on his toast Fuzz on the toast of Death. What the sanatorium good was it to be the Lord of the Underworld if there was fuzz on your underdone toast. FuckHe snatched the toast from the floor and sent it sailing by Sophie into the living room. The baby followed it with her eyes, accordingly looked back at her father with a delighted squeal, as if saying, Do it again, Daddy. Do it againCharlie picked her up out of the car seat and held her tight, smelling her sour-sweet baby smell, his tears squeezing out onto her ov eralls. He could do this if Rachel was here, but he couldnt, he wouldnt, without her.He just wouldnt go out. That was the solution. The sole(prenominal) way to keep the people of San Francisco safe was to stay in his apartment. So for the next four days he stayed in the apartment with Sophie, sending Mrs. broom from on a higher floor out for groceries. (And he was accumulating a fairly large collection of vegetables for which he had no name nor any idea of how to prepare, as Mrs. Ling, regardless of what he put on the list, always did her shopping in the markets of Chinatown.) And after two days, when a new name appeared on the message pad next to his bed, Charlie responded by hiding the message pad under the phone carry in a kitchen drawer.It was on day five that he saw the shadow of a raven against the roof entrance of the building across the street. At first he wasnt sure whether it was a giant raven, or just a normal-sized raven projecting a shadow, but when he realized that it was noon and any normal shadow would be cast straight down, the tiny raven of defence vanished in a wisp. He pulled the blinds on that side of the apartment and sat in the locked bedroom with Sophie, a box of Pampers, a basket of produce, a six pack each of baby formula and orange soda, and hid out until the phone rang.What do you think youre doing? said a very deep mans voice on the other end of the line. Are you insane?Charlie was taken aback from the caller ID, hed expected a wrong number. Im eating this thing I think is either a melon or a squash. He looked at the green thing, which tasted like a melon but looked more like a squash, with spikes. (Mrs. Ling had called it shut-up-and-eat-it-good-for-you.)The man said, Youre screwing up. You have a job to do. Do what the book says or everything that means anything to you will be taken away. I mean it.What book? Who is this? Charlie asked. He panorama the voice sounded familiar, and it immediately sent him into alarm mode for some reason.I cant tell you that, Im sorry, said the man. I really am.Ive got caller ID, you nit. I know where youre calling from.Oops, said the man.You should have thought of that. What kind of ominous power of darkness do you think you are if you dont even block caller ID?The little readout on the phone said Fresh Music and a number. Charlie called the number back but no one answered. He ran to the kitchen, dug the phone book out of the drawer, and looked up Fresh Music. It was a record store off upper Market in the Castro district.The phone rang again and he grabbed the handset off the counter so violently he nearly chipped a tooth in answering.You merciless bastard Charlie screamed into the phone. Do you have any idea what Ive been going through, you stony monsterWell, fuck you, Asher Lily said. Just because Im a kid doesnt mean I dont have feelings. And she hung up.Charlie called back.Ashers Secondhand, Lily answered, family-owned by bourgeoisie douche waffles for over thirty years.Lily, Im sorry, I thought you were someone else. What did you call about?Moi? Lily said. Je me fous de ta gueule, espce de gaufre de douche.Lily, stop speaking French. I said I was sorry.Theres a cop down here to go over you, she said.Charlie had Sophie strapped to his chest like a terrorist baby bomb when he came down the back steps. She had just gotten to the point where she could hold up her head, so he had strapped her in face-out so she could look around. The way her arms and legs waved around as Charlie walked, she looked as if she was skydiving and using a skinny nerd as a parachute.The cop stood at the counter opposite Lily, looking like a cognac ad in an Italian-cut double-breasted suit in indigo raw silk with a buff linen paper shirt and yellow tie. He was about fifty, Hispanic, lean, with sharp facial features and the aspect of a predatory bird. His hair was combed straight back and the gray streaks at the temples made it appear that he was moving toward you even w hen he stood still.Inspector Alphonse Rivera, the cop said, extending his hand. Thanks for coming down. The young lady said you were working last Monday night.Monday. The day hed battled the ravens back in the alley, the day the pale redhead had come into the store.You dont have to tell him anything, Asher, Lily said, obviously renewing her loyalty in spite of his douche wafflosity.Thanks, Lily, why dont you take a break and go see how things are going in the abyss.She grumbled, then got something out of the drawer under the register, presumably her cigarettes, and pull away out the back door.Why isnt that kid in school? Rivera asked.Shes special, Charlie said. You know, homeschooled.That what makes her so cheerful?Shes studying the Existentialists this month. Asked for a study day last week to bulge an Arab on the beach.Rivera smiled and Charlie relaxed a little. He produced a photograph from his breast pocket and held it out to Charlie. Sophie made as if to grab it. The photogra ph was of an older gentleman in his Sunday best standing on the steps of a church. Charlie recognized the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul, which was just a few blocks away on upper-case letter Square.Did you see this man Monday night? He was wearing a charcoal overcoat and a hat that night.No, Im sorry. I didnt, Charlie said. And he hadnt. I was here in the store until about ten. We had a few customers, but not this fellow.Are you sure? His name is James OMalley. He isnt well. Cancer. His wife said he went out for a walk about dusk Monday night and he never came back.No, Im sorry, Charlie said. Did you ask the cable-car operator?Already talked to the guys working this line that night. We think he may have collapsed somewhere and we havent found him. It doesnt look good after this long.Charlie nodded, trying to look thoughtful. He was so relieved that the cop wasnt here about anything connected with him that he was almost giddy. Maybe you should ask the Emperor you know him, righ t? He sees more of the nooks and crannies of the city than most of us.Rivera cringed at the mention of the Emperor, but then relaxed into another smile. Thats a good idea, Mr. Asher. Ill see if I can track him down. He handed Charlie a card. If you remember anything, give me a call, would you?I will. Uh, Inspector, Charlie said, and Rivera paused a few steps from the counter, isnt this sort of a routine case for an inspector to be investigating?Yes, normally uniform personnel would handle something like this, but it may relate to something else Im working on, so you get me instead.Oh, okay, Charlie said. Beautiful suit, by the way. Couldnt help noticing. Its my business.Thanks, Rivera said, looking at his sleeves, a little wistful. I had a defraud run of good fortune a while back.Good for you, Charlie said.It passed, Rivera said. Cute baby. You two take care, huh? And he was out the door.Charlie turned to go back upstairs and nearly ran into Lily. She had her arms crossed under the Hell Is Other People logo on her T-shirt and was looking even more judgmental than usual. So, Asher, you have something you want to tell me?Lily, I dont have time for She held out the silver cigarette case that the redhead had given him. It was still glowing red. Sophie was reaching for it.What? Charlie said. Could Lily see it? Was she picking up on the weird glow?Lily opened the case and pushed it into Charlies face. Read the engraving.James OMalley, read the ornate script.Charlie took a step back. Lily, I cant I dont know anything about that old man. Look, I have to get Mrs. Ling to watch Sophie and get over to the Castro. Ill explain later, okay? I promise.She thought about it for a second, staring at him accusingly, like shed caught him feeding Froot Loops to her bte noire, and then relented. Go, she said.