Trouble in Rooster Paradise by T.W. Emory Read Free Book Online Page B

that
order.
    “ Why, just the other day Frederick
and Nelson was pushing some French perfume. They even shipped in a
Parisian model to show it off.”
    “ La Voodoo,” I said.
    “ What’s that, son?” His face was an
incredulous mask.
    “ La Voodoo. It’s the girl’s stage
name.” I’d seen the ads with pictures of the gorgeous model. She
took over where Bambi left off. The papers said it was she who’d
inspired the “doe-eyed look” that season.
    “ Hoodoo, schmoo-doo. It makes my
point. Rod’s little venture hasn’t been sanctioned and isn’t
traditional enough to become a big success. Still, I stop in from
time to time to take its pulse. Rod spends a bundle on advertising.
And I have to admit it, son, Len Pearson’s lovely band of
salesgirls have done remarkably well. At the very least, they’ve
managed to charm a percentage of the pretentious. Especially among
the male segment of society.” He winked. “You know the sort. Mainly
local and visiting businessmen. Guilt-motivated gift hunters out to
pacify wives and mistresses, but not minding some beautiful scenery
in the process.”
    Mr. Lundeen put a dollar on the table and
anchored it with the napkin dispenser. I popped a clove in my
mouth.
    “ Still chewing on those twigs, eh,
son?”
    “ Still. Ever since a good friend
convinced me to quit smoking.”
    He seemed mildly impressed. But it was hard to
know with him.
    “ Anyway, Gunnar, go poke around.
Stir the pot if you have to. But take care, son. As I said, I want
to avoid the kind of fanfare that would be bad for business and
hurt my family.”
    I told him I understood.
    “ Go talk to Len. In the meantime
I’ll grease the skids for you down at the police
station.”
    “ Police station?”
    “ Yes. I’ll have it all arranged so
that when you’ve finished talking with Len and his stable of lovely Fräuleins , you can talk to Dirk. I’ll tell them you’re a
hireling of his lawyer.”
    “ He needs a
lawyer?”
    “ Definitely. For now, Dirk’s simply
being questioned. But if I know that hothead, he’ll soon talk
himself into being a full-fledged suspect.”
     
     

Chapter 5
    “ W hat was
Seattle like—just after the Second World War, I mean?” Kirsti
asked. That hopeful gleam of the idealist in her eyes met the
realist’s flicker in mine.
    “ Well, Blue Eyes, think of the
population of New York City as an apple pie,” I said. I’d just
eased back down into my wheelchair after a solo limp to and from
the men’s room, and was looking up at Kirsti’s pretty face. “In
1950 the citizenry of Seattle was about the size of a one-sixteenth
sliver of that pie. Now mind you, the financial and high-priced
shopping districts were on a lot smaller scale, but I’d say they
were as defined and striking as in Manhattan, and the Hudson River
definitely had a kid brother in the Duwamish.”
    “ What do you mean by ‘kid brother’?”
she asked as she turned my chair around and began to roll me back
to the outside courtyard.
    I went on, “Well, in those days from West
Seattle the tide flats at Duwamish Head stunk up the Spokane Street
corridor like a backed-up outhouse in summer. Then it wafted over
the railroad tracks to gag the tipsy denizens of the Skid Road
flophouses—and anyone else who got within whiffing
distance.”
    “ Yuck.”
    I almost laughed out loud. “Sure. The view of
Seattle’s skyline from across Elliott Bay might have suggested
Manhattan Island, but it was as awe-inspiring as a sink full of
dirty pie tins and almost as colorful. Closer yet, you saw the
pigeon poop garnishing the cornices of many a low-rise building
from the base of Queen Anne Hill down south to King Street and the
markets of Chinatown.”
    “ Gross.”
    “ Sure. But nobody noticed, girl, and
nobody cared. Not in those days. The beauty of Puget Sound was a
different story … and still is. It was awe-inspiringly scenic,
especially as seen from one of the tallest buildings west of