Laurel and Hardy Murders by Marvin Kaye Read Free Book Online

don’t know their names. One tribe can’t speak at all, the second only talks through its noses, and in the third, the men and women speak different languages and understand each other only with a lot of difficulty.”
    “Barry,” O. J. begged, “that’s enough.”
    “There isn’t much more. Great Mogul of Montmartre, High Constable, High Sheriff, Marshall of Eastern Rumelia, Regent of the Duchy of Finkelstein—”
    There was a loud noise at the other end of the table. Barry and I looked over at Frank Butler. He had just clomped an ancient, rusty .45 on the table in front of him.
    “You nearly done?” he asked calmly.
    “Leader-of-Men-Seducer-of-Women-and-General-All-Around-Nice-Guy- that’s-it !” Barry rattled off the words so fast they ran into each other. Then, from the corner of his mouth, he told me to get the hell up so he could push past and take himself out of Butler’s vicinity.
    We both rose, leaving Butler alone with O. J. That was a big mistake. If I’d stayed, I might have saved Wayne Poe’s life—admittedly a doubtful honor.
    When the committee sat back down, O. J. dropped a bombshell. “Gentlemen, Frank Butler here has suggested we get Wayne Poe to appear at our banquet. If Jack Black can’t make it, he could fill in beautifully.”
    Loud protests. Angry words. I stared at Butler, wondering why he’d proposed his nemesis of the scissors-and-seltzer-bottle. I was sure that Butler, once crossed, wouldn’t tend to forget a grudge. I suspected a plot.
    Butler held up his hand for silence. “Listen, boys,” he said, lighting a cigar, “Poe was the hit of the Two Tars show. Everybody stood up and clapped.”
    Was Frank Butler drunker than I’d realized?
    “Wayne Poe,” Natie emphatically stated, “is a first-class son-of-a-bitch! Somebody ought to break his neck!”
    Dutchy seconded the sentiment.
    Phil Faxon observed that if Wayne Poe dropped dead immediately, it would be too soon.
    “He’s right,” said Natie. “Everybody in favor of Wayne Poe dropping dead, say ‘Aye.’”
    “AYE!” The voice vote was nearly unanimous.
    “You’re not supposed to vote,” Al Kilgore told Toby.
    “For this , he should be allowed,” Natie said.
    O. J. argued about having Poe on the show with us. Now as long as the question didn’t actually get put to a vote, I knew O. J. would do as he pleased. He actually liked Poe. Since I could not, as a delegate-at-large, propose the motion to ban the comic, the next-best thing I could do was to relate my version of what really happened in Philadelphia.
    But I didn’t get a chance. Hal Fawkes reappeared and when O. J. saw him, he seized the opportunity to change the subject.
    “Well? Did you get hold of Jack Black?”
    Hal nodded. He plopped in his chair, catching the pocket of his jacket on the wooden arm, ripping it. He cursed.
    “Come on, Hal!” Natie prompted. “Don’t make us pry it out of you!”
    “I’ve got him holding, O. J.,” Hal said, ruefully fingering his jacket. “He’s not so sure he should come now, so maybe you better talk to him. Last booth over.”
    O. J. rose and went to the lobby and the telephone. We all held our breaths.
    “If Jack doesn’t come,” Hal said, “we’ll hafta scrap the film clip of him and Billy.”
    “Film clip, hell,” said Barry, “we’ll have to line up a new guest of honor pretty damn fast.”
    But O. J. returned and said he’d talked Jack Black into coming, after all. Everyone sighed gratefully, glad to be spared having to tolerate another one of Wayne Poe’s dreadful performances.
    “And now, gentlemen,” said O. J., “my agenda is covered. Is there any other business to discuss? Yes, Al?”
    Our Grand Sheik announced that he had a motion of vital importance to make.
    “Yes? What is it?”
    “RACK ‘EM!”

D ESPITE MY HEADACHE, I had no intention of letting Butler slip away after the meeting. Considering his performance at the pool table and his totally out-of-character endorsement