Stevenson.doc

Richard Stevenson CHAIN OF FOOLS 1 Ones a good chain and ones a bad chain, Skeeter Mc-Caslin eerily intoned from his hospital bed. Ones a daisy chain and ones a chain of fools. His dark eyes were bright with fever, and he looked suspicious and terrified and cunning all at the same time. Timothy Callahan and I glanced at each other over our gauze masks, then looked back at Skeeter. But when you called the other day, Timmy said, you told me a friends life was in danger—a woman at the newspaper in Edensburg. Why dont you tell Don and me about that, Skeeter? You were right to call. Im really glad you did, because Don might be able to help. Skeeters jaw tightened under his stubble of black beard, the whiskers an indication not of fashion but of illness, and he scowled. I just told you, didnt I? Now I am going to tell you one . . more . . time. Ones a good chain, and ones a bad chain. Ones a daisy chain, and ones a chain of fools. After a little pause, Timmy said, Chain of fools? Skeeter did not rise up from his pillow—he was obviously far too sick and exhausted for that—but he cocked a bushy eyebrow and said, in a voice dripping acid, Do I have to repeat myself a third time? Ones a— Ill be right back, Timmy said. He got up and walked out into the corridor. I said to Skeeter, Your friend whos in danger—is her name Aretha? His eyes burned with contempt. I was a moron. I asked, Is it Buchanan? As in Daisy Buchanan? Youre an even bigger idiot than your boyfriend is, Skeeter said. He gave me a look indicating that I was as useful to him, and as appealing, as the uneaten dun-colored roast beef and bile-green string beans on the dinner plate at his bedside. Skeeter, I have a feeling youre not yourself tonight, I said. Timmy always spoke well of you, and I hope we can get to know each other when youre feeling better. Then we can sort this thing out—whatever the situation is that led you to believe that your friend might be in need of a private investigator. Okay? Skeeter grinne