When Elephants Forget (Trace 3) Read Free Page B

doesn’t get the blood flowing, what good is it?”
    She ignored him. “I think you should try to get your life going in a new direction,” she said.
    “As soon as you propose one that I don’t find totally repulsive, I’ll be glad to,” Trace said.
    “You should talk to your children. They’re growing up, Trace, and you haven’t spoken to them in two years.”
    “Don’t tamper with success,” he said. “I haven’t talked to What’s-his-name and the girl for two years and they’re still thriving. Leave well-enough alone.”
    “Here’s my proposal,” Chico said.
    “Go for it.”
    “We go to New York. You really slow down on the drinking. You cut down to one pack of cigarettes a day. You exercise some every day.”
    “You mean, besides sex?”
    “Yes. And no casual extracurricular sex.”
    “This is really getting nasty,” Trace said.
    “Do you think you could do those things?”
    “Of course. If I wanted to.”
    “You do it, and I’ll give you five hundred dollars,” she said. “A five-hundred-dollar bet.”
    “If I lose, I give you five hundred dollars?”
    “No. If you fail, before we leave New York, you call your children and talk to them.”
    “I’d rather give you five hundred dollars,” he said.
    “Is it a deal?” she asked.
    “Who’ll be the judge of whether I win or lose?”
    “I will. But you’ll be on your honor.”
    “I’ll take the bet,” he said instantly.
    “No cheating,” she said.
    “I’ve changed my mind,” he said.
    “Too late.”
    “I don’t have to join Sarge in the detective agency?”
    “No,” she said.
    “I don’t have to think big thoughts?”
    “Only if you want to,” she said.
    “Can I cook?” he asked.
    “As infrequently as possible,” she said.
    “You’ve got a deal,” he said. “Shake.” A moment later: “I meant my hand.”

4
     
    Trace did not like the flight to New York. He decided he had better get into training for his bet with Chico, so instead of ordering vodka to drink, he ordered beer. That annoyed him.
    He did not like either of the dinner choices on the menu and he asked the stewardess if he could whip up a batch of his Green Pepper Veal Surprise for everyone on the plane.
    “Sorry, sir, we don’t have any veal,” the stewardess said.
    “That’s all right. I don’t need veal. That’s one of the surprises.”
    Chico shook her head at the stewardess.
    “Well, I don’t really think so,” the stewardess said. “Regulations, you know.”
    “No wonder airlines are going broke,” Trace groused. “You’ve lost your spirit of adventure.”
    “That’s right,” chipped in a bald-headed man seated across the aisle from Trace. “Everything’s dull and the same. Take off and land. Take off and land. Take off and land.”
    “Sounds good to me,” Chico mumbled. “I kind of like an unbroken pattern of take off and land when I fly.”
    “Quiet, woman,” Trace said. The stewardess walked down the aisle. Trace said to the man in the opposite seat, “That was a good offer I just made. I’m a gourmet chef, you know.”
    “Really?”
    “That’s right. I’m a private detective. We’re all great cooks.”
    “I didn’t know that,” the man said.
    “You probably don’t read enough,” Trace said. “Right from Nero Wolfe on. We’re all good cooks. Hell, even Sherlock Holmes. Except he mostly cooked up cocaine.”
    “I read Mike Hammer. I don’t think Mike Hammer ever cooked,” the man said warily.
    “Well, that was Mike Hammer. What did he know? I’ll tell you. If he cooked, he’d still be going strong. Instead of being reduced to beer commercials.”
    “I heard you ask the stewardess for beer before. What kind was that?”
    “You’ve heard of Miller High-Life?”
    “Yes.”
    “That was Polish Low-Life. They didn’t have it, though. I only drink imported beers. It’s part of my image as a big private detective.”
    “Trace, will you be quiet?” Chico said, pulling on his sleeve.
    “I pump