Page 120 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Soaked to the Bone

Man: All right. I give it special attention, now—you bet I do!
Labelle: This morning: did you go through the blue recycle barrel
at 669?
Man: Yes. Always good pickings there. [Laughs] Those people
put away a lot of high quality booze. Bottles always
empty, though.
Labelle: Was there anything different in that barrel this morning?
Man: [After apparent consideration] Yeah, there was. I usually get a
bunch of Jack Daniels bottles and maybe one or two gin
bottles. This morning I also found a couple of big old
Podgorny vodka bottles, about half a gallon each. That
must have been some party!
Labelle: All empty?
Man: Yep. Not a drop.
Labelle: Thank you, Aldous. If I need you again, I know where to
find you.
Man: Yeah, yeah. [Picks up bottle in bag, obscuring additional
comments]

That ended the interview, such as it was. As Labelle turned back to
the car, the shopping cart inexplicably began rolling away from
Aldous. I say that because it was going uphill, another of her
unexpected distractions for the unwary. The scavenger lunged after
his invaluable means of livelihood rather than act on any pent-up
urge to brain the detective with his bottle. She was in the car
engaging the transmission by the time he had retrieved his rolling
stock and had wheeled about to face us, muttering boozy
imprecations through a wine- and nicotine-stained beard.
I was silent as we headed back to Maison Fish. Did Ms. Gramercy
know I had overheard that conversation? It had to mean something:
coincidence had no place in disasters; art definitely imitated life in
that respect. Why had Fish changed his choice of libation last night? I
concentrated. He must have had a guest who drank cheap vodka,
maybe several. Did they bring the bottles, or did he know they were
coming and provide for them himself? No way to find the bottles
now—or was there? I recalled a celebrated celebrity murder case in
which the police failed to locate the suspect’s clothing worn the night
of the crime. He had obviously—to many people, including me—

119