3 Strange Bedfellows Read Online Free

tested it.
    Presto . "Automatic lock" notwithstanding, the door opened instantly.
    Presumably the lock was just as "automatic" last night, too. I was feeling pretty proud of my P.I. skills —and more important, Will's story was suddenly looking a lot more believable.
    "Still, someone at the station would've seen or heard something," Charlie said defensively as we headed back toward the front of the building.
    "But you were all either in the recording studio or at the front desk. And they' re both at least a hallway and a half away from the murder, right?"
    "I guess so, yeah. But—"
    "You gotta remembe r, this debate was public knowledge. Killer could've been anyone. He could've shown up here early and waited for just the right moment to kill the Hack."
    By now we had reached the lobby. Charlie leaned against the receptionist's desk, and she batted her eyes at him. Maybe it was just that her contacts needed cleaning.
    "Jacob," Charlie said thoughtfully, "how well do you really know Will Shmuckler? What makes you so sure he didn't do it?"
    "Because he didn't."
    "Fact is, your guy had this pathetic dream of becoming a congressman. But he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell—unless he did something drastic."
    "Killing the Hack wouldn't have been drastic, it would've been suicidal . I mean, look what's happening now that he's accused of murder. He won't get a single vote."
    Charlie shrugged. "Okay, so it was an act of passion. The Hack stuck out his tongue and said, 'Nyah, nyah, I'm gonna beat you,' and Shmuckler couldn't take it. Pulled out his gun and shot him."
    "Will doesn't have a gun. He's for gun control."
    Charlie snorted with disgust. "I know, and he's against capital punishment. For a politician who wants to get elected, that's pretty suicidal right there. You may call it principled politics, but I c all it wasting your time. Speaking of which, I better run," he said, shaking my hand and hurrying off. "My show's about to start. Filberts are calling me."
    I watched him go. He was right abo ut capital punishment, of course; taking a stand against it in this conservative era is futile. But agreeing with him made me feel sad. I still longed for the old days, when I thought my generation stood for something. Now it seemed like all we stood for was filberts.
    Meanwhile the receptionist was gazing up at me. Her newly painted lips were parted, and her eyes were setting the world's record for most bats per minute. "Mr. Burns," she said breathily, "I'm a screenwriter, too."
    Oh no, here it comes. "That's great.  Lots of luck to you," I said, and made a mad dash out of the building before she could thrust a screenplay in my hands.
    Outside the afternoon sun was shining brightly, but I felt murky. As I fished my sunglasses out of my pocket, I tried to imagine what I would do next if I were Sam Spade.
    My guess is, old Sam would have fired up a cigarette, guzzled some whiskey from a hip flask, and swaggered back inside to interview the WTRO employees—especially the eye-batter. Then he would have taken the eye-batter home with him and taught her all about screenwriting and a few other things, too.
    But for better or worse, I wasn't Sam Spade. I had two kids, it was two o'clock already, and I knew exactly what I had to do next—hurry back to Saratoga, so I'd be in time to pick up my sons at their bus stop. Now that I was hitting Dreaded Middle Age, that's what I stood for: Derek and Bernie. Whoever killed the Hack, it sure was inconsiderate of him to do it during my kids' first week of school.
    But maybe the killer didn't have time to wait. Maybe, I reflected as I got onto I-87 north, he had to get rid of the Hack now, before the election.
    But why? Who else besides Will would benefit from the Hack not getting elected?
    Or was I barking up the wrong shrub entirely?

3
     
    While the kids were having their afternoon Wheaties and discussing who was the best shortstop of all time, I called Will and told him the rather skimpy