Page 42 - The Myth and the Moment

Afternoon

“No. Just to validate my sanity. And for that matter, I hadn’t seen
you, Ham Jefferson, for an awfully long time; and then you turn up
right on the scene of the crime, as it were.”
“Hey! Lighten up, man. You accusing me now?”
“Well, doesn’t it look funny, you being here today?”
I wish I could read his face, but it’s written in a foreign language.
“Come on, Nate: would I hang around here if I’d swiped your
papers? Hell, no. I’d be miles away. You want to search me? I
wouldn’t let just any honky frisk me, but go ahead. Just don’t tickle,
okay?”
“Ha-ha-ha!”
What gestures! He can still act, as well as think on his feet. What
was I expecting, injured innocence or righteous indignation or
farcical counter-offensives? Got ‘em all.
“Ha! You’re too much, Ham. No, maybe I should see what’s on
tape there in your camera. Maybe you recorded my papers before
smearing them with refried beans and feeding them to the pigeons.”
“Hee-hee-hee! Good point! I’ve also got the Pentagon Papers,
Kennedy’s autopsy report, and the Pope’s urine test in here! Hee-hee-
hee!”
Pretty good! But my need for humor is easily satisfied. No runs, no
hits, no errors.
“Seriously, Ham: you’re probably on the square, but if I were a
lawyer I’d subpoena that tape.”
“You’re not kidding, right?”
“Right. I lost something extraordinarily valuable to me, and
completely worthless to anyone else.”
“And you think Phil took it, but you won’t talk to him?”
“Right again.”
Now he’s thinking slower than he’s talking. First time I’ve seen
that noble brow crease in concentration.
“Dig: I have another idea. Talk to Aestheria. She knows Phil better
than I do, and better than you do. Let her deal with him.”
“Oh, that’s crazy, Ham. She has no reason to do anything for
me—or anything against Phil. Besides, I don’t know where she lives
or what her telephone number is.”
“Objection overruled: I know, and I’ll take you there. Now. What
do you say?”

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