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I decided to go whole hog.
“Sunset. Best time to prowl. God, I love this place. I plan to own it someday. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you on. When I do, I’ll tear down the offices, make everyone really live history. Let Manny work over on Tenth Avenue, New York, there! Put Fritz in Berlin, there! Me, Green Town. Roy? if he ever returns, the nut. Build a dinosaur farm yonder. I’d run wild! Instead of forty films a year, I’d make twelve, all masterpieces! I’d make Maggie Botwin vice president of the studio, she’s that brilliant, and haul Louis B. Mayer out of retirement. And—”
I ran out of gas.
Doc Phillips stood with his mouth dropped as if I had handed him a ticking grenade.
“Anyone mind if I go in Notre Dame? I’d like to climb up and pretend I’m Quasimodo. Is it safe?”
“No!” said the Doc, much too quickly, circling me like a dog circling a fire hydrant. “Not safe. We’re doing repairs. We’re thinking of tearing the whole thing down.”
He turned and walked away. “Nuts. You’re nuts!” he cried and vanished in the cathedral entrance.
I stood watching the open door for about ten seconds, then froze.
Because from inside I heard a sort of grunt and then a groan and then a sound like cable or rope rattling against walls.
“Doc?!”
I stepped into the entrance, but could see nothing.
“Doc?”
A shadow ran up into the cathedral heights. It was like a big sandbag being hauled up in shadows.
It reminded me of Roy’s body hung swinging over on Stage
13.
“Doc!?”
He was gone.
I stared up in darkness at what looked like the bottoms of his shoes sliding higher and higher.
“Doc!”
Then, it happened.
Something struck the cathedral floor.
A single black slip-on shoe.
“Christ!” I yelled.
I pulled back to see a long shadow hauled into the cathedral sky.
“Doc?” I said.
52
“Catch!”
Crumley threw a ten-dollar bill at my taxi driver, who hooted and took off.
“Just like the movies!” Crumley said. “Guys throw money at taxis and never get change. Say thanks.”
“Thanks!”
