Free Snowjob by Ted Wood

ankle?” I asked and he frowned, then said, “Oh, fine, thanks. Just a sprain. Soon fixed.”
    “I didn’t think good skiers sprained their ankles these days,” I said. “Break their legs, necks even, but sprained ankles? What are ski boots for?”
    His face darkened. “Who are you?”
    “The name doesn’t matter. I’m a friend of Doug Ford’s and I’m on to you,” I told him.
    “You’d better leave.” He stood up but didn’t come around his desk. I outweighed him by ten pounds, was broader in the shoulders and at least as fit.
    “Or what?” I sneered. “You’ll bring in some creep from New Jersey to steal my kids?”
    He flushed but answered immediately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get out of here right now or I’ll call the police.”
    “Why? Scared you, have I?”
    He pressed a button on his phone. “Lois. Call the police department. I want this man out of my office.”
    He sat back and I reached over and pressed the button. “Save your quarter, Lois, I’m going. For now.”
    I let go of the button and wagged the finger at Huckmeyer. “It’s not over till it’s over, Walt, old sport. I’m going to be in your face everywhere you go.”
    The girl at the desk was on her feet as I passed. She looked shocked. “Who are you?” she asked.
    “The avenging angel,” I told her and left, wondering if I’d done any more than stir up Huckmeyer’s corpuscles for him.
    That was my plan, what there was of it. The only other thing to do was to walk into the bank and start making noises to the owner. But I didn’t do that. Banks have alarm systems and if I started leaning on the manager the cops would be at the door before I knew it. And anyway, this was Saturday. The bank was closed for the weekend. No, I decided, that was as far as I could go for one morning. I didn’t even go into the coffee shop. If Huckmeyer had clout with the local police department he could call them in and have me taken out for causing a disturbance, anything at all to harass me, and I wanted to keep the initiative. So I went back into town and stopped at the library. They had the phone books of most major metropolitan areas in the states and I pulled out a stack of New Jersey phone books and checked the Mucci listing. There were lots of them but no A or Antonio listed. So I couldn’t take any shortcuts. All I could do was stay visible and see if Huckmeyer was going to do anything more than quake in his ski boots.
    The day dragged but at six o’clock I drove out to Brewskis to check if Huckmeyer was in residence. He wasn’t there. Neither was Carol Henning, the bartender I’d spoken to. So, knowing I might have trouble later, I ordered a ginger ale and sat at the bar with it and waited.
    Huckmeyer turned up a while later with a brunette in ski clothes. He made for his usual table and sat down before he noticed me. When he did I raised my glass to him and beamed. His face went dark but he ignored me and ordered from the waitress. I sat where I was until the waitress had served him and his date, then sauntered over. He was talking to her and pretended not to see me. I acted like the usual overfriendly drunk. “Hi, Walt. Long time no see.”
    The girl looked up, then at Huckmeyer. “You know this guy, Walter?”
    “Sure he does,” I said cheerfully. “We have a mutual friend.” I reached down and picked up the beer bottle in front of Huckmeyer. “Changed your brand, I see. I thought you were a Coors man.”
    He looted at me now. “Why don’t you take off before I have you thrown out?”
    “Who’s going to do it? The waitresses?” I laughed at him. “But I can see you need some privacy now. See you around.”
    I went back to my place at the bar and waited. He got up and went out through the kitchen. To use the phone, I guessed. I finished up my ginger ale and headed for the door, waggling my fingers at the girl who had hardly taken her eyes off me since I’d visited the table. She turned away