Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

"What did you say to her?" I asked.

"Nothing. Nothing at all, Mister Duke. I merely took the message." He paused.

"But it wasn't that easy, talking to that woman. She was… well… extremelynervous. I think she was crying."

"Crying?" My brain had locked up. I couldn't think. The drug was taking over. "Why was she crying?"

"Well… ah… she didn't say, Mister Duke. But since I knew the nature of your work I thought… "

"I know," I said quickly. "Look, you want to be gentle with that woman if sheever calls again. She's our case study. We're watching her very carefully." I felt my head unwind ing now; the words came easily: "She's perfectly harmless, of course… there'll be no trouble… this woman has been into laudanum, it's a controlled experiment, but I suspect we'll need your cooperation before this thing is over."

"Well… certainly," he said. "We're always happy to cooperate with the police… just as long as there won't be any rouble… for us, I mean."

"Don't worry," I said. "You're protected. Just treat this or woman like you’d treat any other human being in trouble.”

“What?” He seemed to be stuttering. “Ah… yes, yes, I see what you meen… yes… so you’ll be responsible then?"

"Of course," I said. "And now I have to get back to the news."

"Thank you," he muttered.

"Send the ice," I said, and hung up.

My attorney was smiling peacefully at the TV set. "Good work," he said. "They'll treat us like goddamn lepers, after that." I nodded, filling a tall glass with Chivas Regal.

"There hasn't been any news on the tube for three hours," he said absently.

"That poor fool probably thinks we're plugged into some kind of special cop channel. You should call back and ask him to send up a 3000 watt sensing capacitator, along with the ice. Tell him ours just burned out…

"You forgot about Lucy," I said. "She's looking for you."

He laughed. "No, she's looking for you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. She really flipped over you. The only way I could get rid of her, out there in the airport, was by saying you were taking me out to the desert for a showdown - that you wanted me out of the way so you could have her all to yourself." He shrugged. "Shit, I had to tell her something. I said she should go to the Americana and wait to see which one of us came back." He laughed again. "I guess she figures you won. That phone message wasn't for me, was it?"

I nodded. It made no sense at all, but I knew it was true. Drug reasoning. The rhythms were brutally clear - and, to him, they made excellent sense.

He was slumped in the chair, concentrating on Mission Im possible.

I thought for a while, then stood up and began stuffing things into my suitcase.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Never mind," I said. The zipper stuck momentarily, butl yanked it shut. Then I put on my shoes.

"Walt a minute," he said. “Jesus, you’re not leaving?”

I nodded. "You're goddamn right, I'm leaving. But don't worry. I'll stop at the desk on my way out. You'll be taken care of."

He stood up quickly, kicking his drink over. "OK, god damnit, this is serious! Where's my.357?"

I shrugged, not looking at him as I crammed the Chivas Regal bottles into my hand-satchel. "I sold it in Baker," I said. "I owe you 35 bucks."

"Jesus Christ!" he shouted. "That thing cost me a hundred and ninety goddamn dollars!"

I smiled. "You told me where you got that gun," I said. "Remember?"

He hesitated, pretending to think. "Oh yeah," he said finally. "Yeah… that punk out in Pasadena…" Then he flared again. "So it cost me a goddamn grand. That asshole shot a narc. He was looking at life!… shit, three weeks in court, and all I got was a fucking six-shooter."

"You're stupid," I said. "I warned you about dealing with junkies on credit - especially when they're guilty. You're lucky the bastard didn't pay you off with a bullet in the stomach."

My attorney sagged. "He was my cousin. The jury found him innocent."

"Shit!" I snapped. "How many people has that junkie bastard shot since we've known him? Six? Eight? That evil little tuck is so guilty that I should probably kill him myself, on general principles. He shot that narc just as sure as he killed that girl at the Holiday Inn… and that guy in Ventura!"

He eyed me coldly. "You better be careful, man. You're into some heavy slander. "

I laughed, tossing my luggage together in a lump at the foot of the bed while I sat down to finish my drink. I actually intended to leave. I didn't really want to, but I figured that nothing I could possibly do with this gig was worth the risk of tangled up with Lucy… No doubt she was a beautiful person, if she ever got straight… very sensative, with a secret reserve karma undernenth her Pit Bull act; a great talent with fine instincts… Just a heavy little gal who unfortunately went stone crazy somewhere prior to her eighteenth birthday.