. . . There I feel the great keystone coming in, and through it feel the other part—all the other stones of the archway, joined into mine with a strange happy wild sense of completeness. . . .
“Oh! OUr
Looby Loo cried out, convulsed in spasms, clinging, part of her Tiger’s spasms, fiercely, her mouth on his now, wildly, as he jolted and jolted in her, massively, driving her out of her mind—
“TIGERI OH!"
She cried, and cried.
“Honey—my own—**
He murmured—to her.
“You never will—”
Tiger, caressing her breasts, murmured to her.
“Stay in me—my wonderful one—”
She murmured, over and over, kissing him, dozens of times....
23
The first thing Chief Poldaski heard from his wife Mary when he got home that night was, “Get the butter?”
John, having had a very hard day, perhaps the hardest of all the many long crime-busting days in his entire career, was in no mood for such pleasantries, no matter how much he loved her, and how hungry he was, incidentally.
“What butter?” He growled, forgetting all about what a mean fuck she threw, without a doubt of it.
“What butter?” Mary fired back, definitely riled, “Are you being funny? Boy?"
The Chief, a dim recollection in the back of his mind, was aware of himself wondering, at the same time: How would this finish up? He was apprehensive.
That part sank from view as he answered, with another growl, “What in hell you talkin’ about?”
“Christ! Oh Keerist!” His wife’s response was to that, “Didn’t you even open your dumb book today? Huh? Boy? Didn’t you see it on the very first page? The First PageI Hey! Plain as your monthly pay?"
“ What The Hell’s Wrong With My Pay?" John blasted off, stung to the quick by that one.
“You could be pulling in more just sweeping the floors up at the Electronics Plant—that for a start—if you want to know—But You Don’t Want To Know! Do you, Bo? You just want to play big—Big BIG—Big John The Frig! Oh You Frig! FRIG!" She handed him, in one go.
“ARE YOU KIDDIN’ ME?” John roared.
And Mary belted him across the face with the long, damp rag she had in her hand. It made a resounding smack. What a blow.
“Don’t holler at ME^-YOU BUM!” Mary made herself heard, and belting him once more, “I’ll pound you black and blue, I’ll kick you all over the floor, I’ll mop the house up with you—AND MORE! YOU CRUMMY BUM!” She belted him more. It was a steady downpour.
The Chief tried to cover up, dance around, duck, and o-therwise evade the blows, now raining in from all directions, it seemed. He felt he had twenty wives, or more.
“Christ!” He yelled, “Holy Christ!” He yelped and yelled, “Hey! Knock it off! For Christ Sake! Jesus Christ! Wo! What’s Up? What The Hell’s Up? What’s Up With You? Don’t You know—WHAT HAPPENED TODAY?”
"You Didn't Get The Friggin' Butter Today!" She told him, definitively, bombarding him more.
“LISTEN! GODDAMIT! HEY! LISTEN—WILLYA! Where Ya Been? What You Been DOIN’ Today? LISTEN HERE! HERE! HEY!5’ The Chief tried, in vain, performing quite a dance.
“When I say Butter—I mean BUTTER! Mo. I’m SO goddamn sick of you! GO! Your Whole crummv family— TOO! How’d I ever get MIXED UP with you? GODDAMN POLAK YOU! Bunch of NO GOOD DUMB POLAKS. All of you! YOW! YO! OH MO!” She maintained her assault.
"A GODDAMN SCHOOL KID WAS MURDERED TODAY!" Poldaski roared out, shaking the house.
“Who?” Mary asked, slowing down her barrage.
“That Fairbunn girl—you know the girl—that gal— Hell, you know the girl—That Cheerleader Chief—Jill, that’s her name—Know her? Now?" John shouted out, taking advantage of the lull and springing a brilliant tactical surprise, to wit, snatching the rag out of her hands.
"Gimme that rag!" She cried out, infuriated by what looked like a ruse, “Are you kiddin’ me? What the hell are you talkin’ about? GIMME! You Crummy Cop! YOU POLAK! You Dumb Crumb Of A Polak!” She hurled herself at him, wrestling him for the rag.
“Where the hell you BEEN today?” Poldaski fired, hanging on for dear life.
“YOU MEAN ME?”
“Didn’t ya see the papers? THE RADIO? You always hear the RADIO! What about TV? Jesus, you been under the FLOORBOARDS? Hey?”
She delivered him a terrific blow, to the side of the face* It sent him staggering back, against the chair, which he fell over. He hit the floor like a ton. She stood over him.
“YOU STINKГ Mary roared. "YOU ALL STINK!” You Friggin’ Crumb! YOU BUM! SELMO BUM!”
She picked up a loaf of bread from the table nearby and threw it at him. He got it in the face.
“OWWWI" The Chief roared. “WOW!” He went on to roar. "You Whore I AINT KIDDIN’ YA!” He implored. “WHO’S KJDDIN’ WHO?” Mary asked.
“This kid was MURDERED Today! HEY! Turn on the NEWS! GO ON! You whore of a WHORE! You busted my NoseV
“Don’t bleed all over the floor! GET OFF THE FLOOR! Go in the bathroom—CRUMB! Get Your Hankie Out—YOU POLAK BUM!”
“Her head was stuck down the head—LISTEN—Don't Think I'm Kiddin' YouГ "Who?”
“I TOLD YA ALREADY! This FAIRBUNN gal—I’m TELLIN’ ya!”
“HOLD THAT HANKIE TO YOUR NOSE!”
“I’M NOT KIDDIN’ YA!”
Silence. At last. John daubed his nose.
“What’s her name?” Mary asked, ten tones lower.
“Jill Fairbunn—I think—”
“I know her!”
“Well sure you know her! Well, they found her—
“What didya do?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you—”
“What?”
“I'm not kiddin', you shoulduv seen it—"
“Who did it?”
“Who knows?”
Pretty Maids All in a Row 125 “Murdered? Jill Fairbunn? That Fairbunn girl? She’s a beautiful girl! You better not be kiddiri me around, no kiddin’, Boy—”
“Listen, I’m not kiddin’ at All! Well Just turn on the News! Go on! Paper come yet?”
“I’ll get it—Mustuv—by now—”
“You’ll see if I’m kiddin’ or not! And Your Friggin9 Butter! HUH!”
"Jesus Christ! It takes a lot less than a murder to make you forget my butter! That’s AllI"
“Well Stop Writin’ In My Goddamn Pad!’’
“LISTEN, I’LL MURDER YOUГ “Get the goddamn paper—Go on—”
“Did you do it? Crumb?”
“HUH?”
“You’re about the only guy in Sawyersville who could do it! I know! Tell the truth, Polak! I don’t give a frig/ Think I’d turn you in?”
“You ain’t funny!”
“Who else could do it? Where’s The Paper?’’
She searched around the room, she left the room, she banged a few doors, he heard the front door, she came back, she had the paper, she was just opening it up. Her eyebrows shot up a mile. She whistled.
“Didn’t I Tell Ya?” Poldaski said, triumphantly, the handkerchief still to his nose.
“It’s got your name in here—” Mary said.
“Yeh?"
“Don’t tell me you’re workin’ on it!”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Oh man! How come you didn’t call me? You coulduv put in a phone call to me! No? Hey—”
“Listen ”
“Who’s Ponce de Leon?”
“Don’t it say? The kid that found her—”
“I’ll bet he did it? What a name!”
“Naw. Uh Uh. I got some ideas—”
“You shoulduv called me—”
“Take a look at my nose—” He whined at her.
“Get up—you stayin’ there all day? Look at what it says —the whole front page—And You Never Called Me! Or Got The Butter! Listen, Safeway’s still open—Get Down There!’’