Free Grief Street by Thomas Adcock Page B

what’s the truth and what’s the lie?”
    “My answer’s not likely the same as yours, please God.”
    “Please, that name!”
    “Oh, very well. Go on—say what you wish.”
    “Truth has a thousand obstacles to overcome before it’s got safely black on white. The liar is the least of its foes.”
    “A mere variation of his tongue, and see how he changes the shape of all else around him. My, but aren’t you the subtle bugger of a Paddy ghost, the old shape-shifter himself.”
    “Yes, old man. See how I’ve adapted to your subtle world above.”
    “Stop, or I’ll start believing your malarkey.”
    “A world grown so subtle that it’s as ludicrous to believe in a god as it is to believe in ghosts.”
    “On that much we agree. But on the ambiguity of this word nothing —”
    “A ridiculous concept! I become quite impatient when people accept it senselessly.”
    “If a person says, for instance: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil?”
    “The very height of absurdity. To suggest that evil may be ignored, that evil may thus be rendered into nothingness. Ridiculous! Of nothing, it may only be truly said there is no such thing as nothing.”
    “I see. A leg of lamb—”
    “Aye, there’s the perfect example of circular thought. My first usage of the word nothing excluded all things in the world that are worse than a leg of lamb, among which nothing itself is of course included. Then I claimed that there was nothing better than heaven, so-called. Here now, nothing excludes everything in the world, great and small, which again includes nothing itself.”
    “To quote your beard, it ain’t lucid.”
    “No, it ain’t. Twice I used that dreadful term— nothing- To what end? The word nothing is but a stepchild. Applied to anything, no conclusion may be drawn regarding the genus of nothing.”
    “Yet we hear nothing every day. It sounds so definite* so clear.”
    “Aye, and every mortal fool swears there is meaning when he hears it.”
    “But in reality—as you’ve shown —nothing is an expression of confusion.”
    “Confusion’s an excellent hiding place. Your own bloody God’s a confusion and a mystery, same as me.”
    “God, did you say?”
    “The holiest of holy buggers is up in heaven watching the store. Fair play then, here am I—down to earth in Hell’s Kitchen, tending to business.”
    “What business would you be calling your nasty talk?”
    “To make certain the world knows what truly happened in this place. To make certain people take a fine, long look— and see what they’d sooner forget.”
    “Madness!”
    “Nae, come now. I’ll be recruiting the finest sorts for this crusade—the sane and the saintly. Aye, and a certain detective, with only the slightest of these two afflictions. Him and his swollen missus.”

Nine

    A ccording to the police report, you saw what—a shadow?” I asked. Only shadow? Shadow, and some putrid odor? “There must have been more. Please, Mr. Glick, think carefully.”
    I waited for an answer.
    The old man was calm. He had stopped repeating himself His face... His face. He had taken water. Color had begun creeping back into his pale skin. I thought he was up to answering a few questions. But a long moment had passed and he was only blinking, as if he had felt himself near mortal end.
    “That’s it, the geezer claims he seen nothing but a shadow,” Officer Caras said. Maybe he was trying to be helpful. “All fourteen of them here—same story.”
    “Mr. Glick...?” I ignored Caras. “Are you sure?”
    “As sure as I breathe.” Words at last. He laid a paper hand across his chest. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little surprised I’m drawing air. The others...?” Sad eyes swept over both of us cops. “How are the others?”
    I had to say I did not know myself.
    “Some of them poor old folks, they went over to Roosevelt,” Caras said. “You know, on account of shock. Nobody croaked, so far as I know.”
    “Thanks very much,