Free The Search for the Dice Man by Luke Rhinehart Page B

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14
    It had taken Miss Claybell more than a half dozen calls to locate Agent Nathaniel Putt. He worked in the Washington bureau. When Larry got back from his less than successful trip to Mr Lyman he phoned Putt and told him who he was and what he wanted. Putt said it might be helpful if they could meet. Larry derided this was too important to delegate to Miss Claybell, and Honoria was tied up, so he flew alone to Washington.
    Putt turned out to be quite different from the image conjured up by Detective Cooper’s stories. He was a large florid man in his fifties with a face that looked as if it had seen every crime ever committed and was therefore a bit sceptical about the human race. But he seemed subdued and only marginally interested in Luke Rhinehart.
    ‘You’re his son, are you?’ Putt asked, after seeming to browse through some of the file he had brought out on Rhinehart.
    ‘Yes, I am,’ said Larry. ‘I’d like to locate him.’
    ‘Well, I can’t see how we can help you,’ said Putt. ‘The bureau was on the case for a few years but didn’t come up with anything. Then Carter got into office and discouraged us from chasing kooks and suggested we consider crooks instead. The file’s been inactive for fifteen years – not closed but inactive.’
    ‘But I thought –’ Larry began.
    ‘Actually, old Luke here is still wanted on about a half dozen federal charges. But he’s probably long dead and buried. We got two or three reports of his death No corpse unfortunately.’
    ‘But I thought – two weeks ago two agents who questioned me said he was wanted for what he was doing now!’
    Putt peered at Larry over his thick horn-rimmed glasses. ‘What agents?’ he asked.
    ‘FBI agents,’ Larry countered. ‘Two tall skinny guys. One of them left me his card. Here …’ He took out his wallet. ‘See. A man named Hayes.’
    Putt leaned forward to accept the card from Larry, sniffed at it, turned it over, and then shook his head.
    ‘Oh, them,’ he said. ‘Just routine. The bureau has to follow up on every open case at least once every three years. They were just going through the motions.’
    ‘It didn’t seem that way to me,’ Larry said.
    ‘Nevertheless,’ said Putt, slipping the card into the file. ‘I’m afraid we can’t help you locate Rhinehart.’
    ‘What about his followers?’ asked Larry. ‘Didn’t they form communities around the country – little dicedoms or something like that?’
    ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Putt, looking down at his file and then slipping back into his chair. ‘According to the file here we sent agents into two or three of them.’ As Putt perused the file the furrows on his brow grew and his flushed face flushed further. ‘Seems that two of the agents left the agency without ever filing a report. The one agent who did file one claimed that nothing anyone ever said at this place was reliable so he had no new idea where Rhinehart might be.’ A nervous tic rubberbanded twice across Putt’s cheek and then subsided.
    ‘But do you have the addresses of some of these places?’
    Putt looked a long time at Larry and then excused himself for a few minutes. He was away half an hour.
    When he returned he again stared a long moment at Larry.
    ‘You’re determined to find your father, are you?’
    ‘I am,’ said Larry.
    ‘OK then,’ said Pull. ‘Maybe we can be of help. We’repretty sure that there’s one of these dice centres still in existence. It’s, ah, it’s a place called Lukedom – but it’s not on any map. We’re not actually sure where it is – someplace in West Virginia or Tennessee we think, but since the case is inactive we haven’t pursued it. You interested?’
    ‘Of course,’ said Larry. ‘But that’s not much to go on.’
    ‘There’s a lady,’ said Putt. ‘An Arlene Ecstein. She might know. She was Rhinehart’s mistress or something back when everyone was crazy. Her husband was a big deal in the movement. We even think the