How To Succeed in Evil by Patrick E. McLean Read Free Book Online Page B

waiver. And I believe Dr. Loeb will require prompt medical attention. Thank you.”
    For all his posturing, things aren’t going well for Dr. Loeb. He is pinned under Superlative man’s knee. In pain he gives up on all pretense and distress. An uninterrupted stream of Lower Alabama profanity pours forth from Eustace’s slobbering gob-hole. Such filth, thinks Edwin. Such a remarkable knowledge of the anatomy of farm animals.
    Superlative Man wrenches Dr. Loeb’s arm hard against its socket. “Yield villain, Yield!” Dr. Loeb’s shoulder lets go with a sickening crunch. The profanity drops off to a whimper.
    Ah, that’s nice, thinks Edwin. And then he produces a small nickel-plated pistol from his desk drawer and shoots Superlative Man in the leg. Superlative Man, cries out in shock and surprise. The blood drains from his face and he collapses on the floor.
    “You shot me!?!” he says, in firm command of the obvious.
    Dr. Loeb looks at Edwin through a haze of pain. His arm sticks out from behind his back from an absurd angle. Before he loses consciousness he says, “Thank you.”
    Edwin replaces the gun in the drawer. “No thanks required. It will be added to your bill.”
    “You have been busy,” says Agnes as she stands in the doorway and surveys the carnage. “Is that the tang of cordite in the air? Destructive meeting I trust?”
    “No, no. An excellent meeting. However, it has left Dr. Loeb in need of medical attention...”
    “And what shall we do with this other poor unfortunate?” Agnes dials 911 as she speaks.
    Edwin looks down at the man in the costume. Superlative Man. Of course, he was no superhero. There is nothing superlative about him whatsoever. He is an out-of-work actor trying to earn some extra cash. Edwin feels a stirring of some unidentifiable emotion for him. Not pity. Of course not pity. Whatever it is, he puts it from his mind.
    “He should be handled with some discretion,” says Edwin. No doubt when the actor returns to consciousness, he will be terribly upset about being shot. It is not Edwin’s fault that the actor did not thoroughly read the death and dismemberment rider.
    Edwin does not approve of violence. It is too unpredictable, too hard to control. But he had needed a way to earn Dr. Loeb’s trust beyond all question. He doesn’t think that this farce was a bad solution, but he feels that he has somehow fallen short.  He feels that, if he had a little more time, he would have been able to develop a more elegant solution.
    “He has bled rather a lot,” Edwin observes.
    Agnes covers the phone with her hand and says, “Yes dear, that is my next phone call. Unfortunately, 911 does not dispatch carpet cleaning services.” Agnes pauses thoughtfully. “But when you think of it. Excuse me, do you —” an outraged squawking comes through the phone. “Well then, we’ll just have the ambulance.”
    Agnes hangs up the phone. “You see, this is precisely what happens when you do not take the time to enforce and develop a quality serving class. That woman was unapologetically rude. I will never understand why such a bright, sensitive man such as yourself has chosen to make this savage country your home.”
    “It’s where the work is,” Edwin says, “and now it seems I must go to Alabama.”
    “Heaven’s no! Edwin I forbid you to go.”
    Edwin looks at her.
    “Of course, what I mean to say is.”
    “I know what you mean to say. It will be fine, Agnes.”
    “I predict disaster. I predict disaster.”
    “Yes, my dear, but you always predict disaster. You have long called for the downfall of Western Civilization.”
    “No, no, Edwin. Not calling for. Bemoaning. Bewailing. Cassandra crying out in the savage wilderness of America.”

Chapter Nine 
    What Do You Want Mr. Windsor?

    Edwin ducks as he exits the jet. He feels a pain in his back. There’s not an airplane door in the world that was built for someone of his stature. The atmosphere of the place hits him. The