Murder at the Arlington: Chapter 19

Grady arrived before the food and booze. He sauntered in, sat down in my desk chair, and tilted it back, balancing it on the back two legs. “How’s it going, Ralph?”

“Make yourself at home, Grady. We got business to take care of,” Dixon said.

I moved my boxes of clothes to the other side of the bed.

“I, for one, need a meal before I conduct any business,” Ruth said. “Hey, since we’re waiting for grub and libations, I’ll bet you guys haven’t heard this one,” Grady said. “There was a teacher, a doctor, and a cop waiting at St. Peter’s gate. St. Peter comes out and says, ‘We’re fill- ing up quick, so if you guys want in you have to answer one question cor- rectly.’ He turned to the teacher. ‘Who killed President Lincoln?’ Teacher said, ‘John Wilkes Booth.’ St. Peter let him in. Then to the doctor he asked, ‘Where did President Lincoln take the bullet?’ ‘In the head,’ the doc said and followed the teacher in. Then it was the cop’s turn. St. Pete asked, ‘Where the hell was a cop when they needed one?’”

Laughing at his own lame joke, Grady almost fell off his chair. Dixon stared, expressionless.

Ruth said, “I don’t get it.”

Now I was the one who needed said aspirin.