Page 254 - Some Dance to Remember

224 Jack Fritscher

killed. While I was cuming, I thought how close I was. How close we all
are all the time, even if we don’t go out and cruise it, recruit it, and pay
for it, because what is, is. None of us, you’re always saying, is going to get
out of this alive. I think, too, our mothers are right. We shouldn’t all be
going home with strangers the way we do.
“I feel so wonderful. I really like living alone. But I miss Tiger living
here. I liked educating him, giving him advice. He was learning. He calls
me Dear Old Dad. They all call me Dear Old Dad. He turned nineteen
last week. I really love him. But I really like being alone. My view. My
TV. My Presto-log burning in the fireplace. I’m boring you, I know. But I
guess I really do love you. I never said that before. And I will come up to
Bar Nada to see what you’ve done. I am interested. I did tell you, didn’t I,
that I may take some heroin. I figure why not? I want to see the rancho. It
all seems like a good idea. Sometimes everything seems like a good idea.
Other times, nothing does. Just what is, is. Murderers.
“One of the several reasons I called you...Are you sitting down?...is
Robert Opel is dead.”
“What?” Ryan’s voice rose loud and clear into the taping on the phone.
“I tried to tell you that murderers are all around us. Someone shot
him in his gallery.”
“When?”
“Last night, I think. Yeah. I have the article right here. Last night.”
“Read it to me.”
“I’m too stoned to read. I’m not too stoned to talk.”
“Then talk to me.”
“It’s like this reporter, Maitland Zane, writes. ‘July 9, 1979. THIEVES
KILL GALLERY OWNER, GET $5.’ What the hell kind of name is
‘Maitland Zane?’ It’s so gender-hidden San Francisco. Anyway, Mr., Miss,
or Ms. Zane, as the case may be, reminds us all that Robert streaked the
1974 Oscars and then got shot in his art gallery.”
“Robert would be happy.”
“Why?”
“The straight press finally called it art.”
“Anyway, these two white guys came in with a sawed-off shotgun and
an automatic. I love murders. Don’t you love murders?”
“I’ll murder you if you don’t tell me exactly what happened.”
“Who knows? Whoever knows exactly what happens? Does Maitland
Zane know? I mean, Maitland says Robert was thirty-nine. I thought he
was younger. Even if he wasn’t younger, he should have been smarter like
I’m smarter when it comes to guys like these who came into the gallery

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK