Funland Read Free

handcuffs, and half a dozen snap-down cases, marked him obviously as a police officer.
    “Kinda neat, though,” the kid admitted after a long inspection. Then he ran his hands under water, pulled down a towel, and dried. “I’m gonna be a policeman.”
    “Good deal. Maybe we’ll be partners.”
    “Naw. I’m from Los Angeles. I’m gonna be LAPD.”
    “That’s a top-notch outfit, mister.”
    The kid beamed up at him, then said, “Well, see you,” and hurried away.
    Dave dried his leg. Then he washed his hands, smiling as he recalled Joan’s advice to use plenty of soap for the troll-slicks.
    His smile slipped off when his mind did a sudden replay of the old woman touching him.
    You try to be civil to those people…
    Gloria’s so fond of them…I ought to introduce her to the puppet witch.
    They’re human beings, Dave.
    Then why don’t they act like it?
    Great, he thought. I’m arguing with Gloria, and she isn’t even here.
    If she had about half the smarts of Joan…
    Forget it.
    He dried his hands and hurried out into the sunlight. He found Joan sitting at a small round table at the edge of the boardwalk. She had one hot dog on a stick and a small Coke for herself. Across the table from Joan were two dogs, a paper sack of french fries, and a larger Coke. Dave sat down in front of the meal.
    “Trying to fatten me up?” he asked.
    “You can’t live on bean sprouts and cottage cheese.”
    “You should’ve seen what she fed me last night.”
    “Wanta ruin my appetite?” Joan asked. She used her teeth to rip the corner of a plastic envelope, then squeezed out mustard onto the brown coating over her hot dog.
    As Dave watched her, his mouth watered. He pulled the paper wrapper off one of his dogs and took a big bite. The crust of deep-fried cornmeal batter crunched. The skin of the hot dog burst. Warm juice sprayed into his mouth. He sighed as he chewed. “Real food,” he said.
    “So, what manner of culinary delight did Gloria prepare for you last night?”
    “Something in a wok.”
    “That’s a bad sign.”
    “Stir-fried vegetation.”
    “Got any clue as to what it was?” Seeming to smile with her eyes, she took a rather dainty bite of her dog. In spite of her care, a yellow dab of mustard found its way onto her upper lip. It stayed there while she chewed.
    “I know exactly what it was,” Dave said. “Most of it, anyway. Water chestnuts, bamboo shoots, mushrooms, snow peas. The best part was the soy sauce.”
    “Mushrooms aren’t so bad,” Joan said. She tongued the mustard off her lip. “Sautéed, they’re good with steak.”
    “Please, don’t mention steak.”
    “Sounds like you’re in training to be a rickshaw boy.”
    “My system is being purified.”
    “I had a hamburger about yay thick.” Joan held up a hand with her thumb and forefinger spread wide. “You mind if I put some catsup on those fries?”
    “I thought they were for me.”
    “They are.” She used her teeth on a catsup packet, then smothered half the fries and began to eat some.
    “Those’ll go straight to your thighs.”
    “You’re the one with the gorgeous gams around here,” she said, and poked more fries into her mouth.
    Thanks for the reminder, Dave thought. He could feel the sock moving up his leg.
    “You think the trollers struck again last night?” Joan asked.
    “Sounded like that’s what the gal was getting at.”
    “Enoch bit the weenie? Sounds like he was killed. The trollers don’t kill them.”
    “Haven’t yet,” Dave admitted. “Not that we know about, anyway.”
    “‘Bit the weenie’ usually means ‘bit the weenie.’”
    “Good thinking.”
    “I don’t see them killing someone, do you?” Joan asked. “It’s one thing, rousting bums. Murder’s a pretty big step from that.”
    “Not that big. Look how it’s been going. When it started out, they were just snatching the bums and giving them a ride out of town. It’s gotten a lot meaner.”
    “Some pretty cruel tricks,”