Jonathan Lethem: Gun, with Occasional Music

I let Angwine chew that over while I nursed my drink and took a look around. My eyes had grown accustomed to the dim lighting, and I could make out the other patrons of the bar at the far-off tables—but only just. I was a little surprised to see an evolved kangaroo drinking alone near the window, his furry face backlit with moonlight. He was staring at our table and looked away when I glared at him, but there was no way he could hear what we were saying and I wrote it off. The rules barring the evolved were slackening everywhere, and bigots like me were just going to have to get used to it.

“I’ve thought it out,” said Angwine. “I’m going to be frozen.” I turned back to the table. He was a rabbit again, but not a fierce one. He was a frightened rabbit, frightened and tired.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s inevitable. You just aren’t saying so, but I’ve thought it out and it’s obvious. I should be preparing for it. I don’t know the first thing about it.”

“It’s pretty simple,” I said. “They tag you and stack you up, and if you’ve got a good lawyer or a family member in a high place, then they keep good track of you and eventually you get defrosted. It’s always worked that way as far as I can tell.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

I tried not to make it too rough. “The only difference between prison and the freezer is that in prison you play cards and celebrate birthdays and build up a healthy resentment of society, whereas frozen you don’t do any of that, and it’s cheaper and cleaner for them to manage and pay for. You still come out stupid and poor and with your girlfriend hitched up to some other guy. But as for who gets off light and who pays for the whole menu, it’s always been and always will be money and connections that decide it. Do you have someone who’ll look out for you?”

“My sister,” he said feebly. “She’s it.”

“No pals from L.A.? No army buddies?”

“Not really.”

“Your sister isn’t exactly in the clear,” I pointed out. “Raising the kid of the man you’re supposed to have killed. When’s the last time you two spoke?”

“Not since I moved out, when Celeste showed up.”

“I can try to talk to her for you,” I offered. “About what to do if they take your card away.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “That would be good.”

We sat quietly for a time. I was done with my drink and I knew it, but I lifted the glass anyway just to have something to do and licked the inside as far as my tongue could reach. I looked over at the kangaroo at the window table, and the kangaroo looked quickly back down at his drink again.

Finally I said: “Here’s the key to my office. You can stay there tonight and leave the key with the dentist in the morning. Keep out of the drawers and don’t answer the phone.”

“Okay,” he said, obviously surprised. “Thanks.”

“Sure, no problem.” I put on my hat. “I’m leaving now, but I’ve got an answering machine on my home number Keep in touch.”

“Okay.”

“Take a look around when I walk out of here, and make note of it if anyone leaves right after me. Don’t do anything, just make a mental note.”

“Okay.”

I pushed out of my bottomless seat and made my way on rubbery legs to the bar, trying not to look behind me. I dropped another twenty on the bar and said, “Bring my friend a drink.”

She nodded and looked over at the table. I put my hands in my pockets and left the bar. The light of the lobby made me squint, but the air smelled a little fresher. I nodded at the desk clerk and stepped out into the parking lot.

I sat in my car for a minute and gave the pounding in my temples an opportunity to stop. It didn’t take it. I didn’t feel too great, but on the other hand I was being paid now for my time, by a guy who didn’t have a lot of his own time left. A voice in my head suggested I go home and run some more make through my nose, but another voice said maybe it was time to do some legwork. I sighed, and decided to listen to the second voice, this time.

So I went to have a look at the scene of the crime. The murder happened at night, and if I played my cards right, I might get to talk to the guy who found the body. When I have any luck with hotel staff, it’s invariably the night shift. I don’t know why. The night shift and I just seem to have some kind of affinity. If I was unlucky, the inquisitors would still have some kind of round-the-clock cordon set up, but even then I could pump the rookies for inside dirt on Office politics surrounding the case.

Lots of fun options between me and my date with a hangover.

FROM THE VISTAMONT HOTEL TO THE BAYVIEW ADULT Motor Inn was a long trip down the karmic spiral, but if Stanhunt and his killer had taken it, I could too. I pulled into the parking lot and found a space; there were four or five other cars there, and all the licenses were in-state. The Bayview was a vacation spot for people vacationing from their husbands and wives, and you didn’t see out-of-state licenses in the lot because people in other states had their own versions of the Bayview for that kind of vacation. The place actually featured a nice view of the bay, but it was a view that didn’t get looked at much.

I got out of my car and stopped: there was the purr of a motorcycle or scooter slowing down behind me. I turned in time to see the bike turn the corner and disappear around the block I’d seen a single headlight in my rearview mirror on the way down the hill, and I was beginning to feel the proverbial breath on my neck, but I tried not to let it spook me into making a wrong move. A tail is like a pimple. It comes to a head in its own time. You can rush it, but it usually makes a mess if you do.

I went up to the hotel office and looked through the window. The lobby was empty except for the clerk, and I could hear the tinny whine of a radio playing somewhere in the back. I stepped inside, careful not to wipe my feet on what was passing for a welcome mat at the door. It looked as though it might inflict serious damage to my shoes, and it certainly wasn’t going to make them cleaner.

The office was dingy. Dingy was the only word for it. The furniture was new but tasteless, and the walls needed a coat of paint. Even the music creeping out of the radio in the back sounded as if it were covered with dust. The night clerk lifted his head from what he was reading or looking at and regarded me with as pouchy and gray a set of eyes as I’d seen in forty-three years of looking in the mirror. He was maybe in his fifties, with the complexion of cigarette ash, and hair that was fighting a losing battle to cover a white pate. I shut the door, and a little bell tinkled a feeble announcement of my arrival.

The clerk looked back down, giving his magazine clear priority. I said hello.

“We have to see the girl,” he said. “No animals allowed. If it’s an animal, you’ll have to take it somewhere else.”

“I’m alone,” I said. “I’m an inquisitor on a case, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

He didn’t look up. “Not without identification.”

I pulled out my photostat, and he almost looked at it. After a minute I put it away again.

“Private,” he said to himself. “No, it won’t go. You can ask for the manager tomorrow morning.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, except he barely bothered to make it. He had it down to a flicker.

I stepped away from the desk and tried to peer into the back room. The clerk pretended I didn’t exist. There wasn’t any noise apart from the radio. The lights were all out, and as far as I could tell we were alone. The key rack was pretty full, and I had thè feeling I could get pretty rough in this shabby little office without attracting much attention.