Book Feature

(Page 4 of 6)

     “So are we just going to talk in circles all night or are you going to tell me what you know?” Jack Frost said evenly.

     “Why don’t you start by telling me what you know,” Commissioner Tiresias countered. “And you can start by telling me what the two of you were doing in town.”

     Frost just stared at Commissioner Tiresias. Just let him do the talking, Frost thought to himself.

     “Why don’t I help you out a bit,” the Commissioner said, filling the space between them. “Ran into Minnesota Slim this morning. Had to bloody him up a little bit, but he finally talked. You really weren’t going to tell me, were you?” Commissioner Tiresias said with mock indignation.

     Jack Frost continued to stare silently at the Commissioner.

     “Listen, Jack, you and I been friends a long time.”

     Jack Frost remained stoic.

     “Let me rephrase that. A long time ago we were friends—” Commissioner Tiresias clarified. “That better?”

     “Not really.”

     “And when we were on a little friendlier terms, you’ll recall I let your boy sing in those coffee houses over on MacDougal Street before he took off for the big city. We all knew he was underage, and I didn’t say anything.”

     “Judas—” Jack Frost said derisively.

     “There’s no need for name-calling, Frost,” Commissioner Tiresias said, placing his hand over his heart mockingly.

     “That was Judas. Judas found him over on MacDougal Street. I was later.”

     “Oh, yes, that’s right,” Commissioner Tiresias snapped his fingers as if the memory had just come to him. “You entered the picture after Dorian was a star.”

     The Cheshire grin returned.

     “Just so you know, Commissioner,” Frost said, once again doing his best to suppress his scorn, “it was his idea to come back, not mine. But now that he’s gone, I am too.”

     Of course, Jack Frost had no intention of leaving Elysian Row, and both men knew it. Commissioner Tiresias, however, wasn’t taking any chances. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver .45 caliber pistol. He placed it on the table. The metal on wood made a hard ‘clicking’ sound that stopped Frost cold.

     “Have a seat, Frost,” the Commissioner said coolly. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

     Jack Frost always said he would have laid down his life for Bob Dorian. He always believed it, too. But now that he was staring down the barrel of a .45 caliber pistol he wasn’t so sure. Frost lowered himself into a matching red crushed velvet chair across from the chaise in which Dorian was lying, and turned his eyes in the direction of Commissioner Tiresias.

     “Like I said,” Commissioner Tiresias said, slowly picking up the gun as he ran his thumb across the ivory bone inlay, “I ran into Minnesota Slim earlier today.”

     “Slim?” Frost said dismissively. “You’re holding me at gunpoint because of something Slim said? Minnesota Slim’s nothing but a two-bit snitch! You know as well as I you can’t trust him as far as you can throw him.”

     “Well, even if only a hint of what he told me this morning is true, he’s thrown quite a monkey wrench into your plans,” Commissioner Tiresias replied.

     “My plans?” Jack Frost countered noncommittally. He knew Commissioner Tiresias had something on him, the problem was what and how much. And until he figured out the answers to those two critical questions, Jack Frost figured it was best not to commit to anything. “And what plans would that be?”

     “Over the years your boy made a lot of friends—”

     Commissioner Tiresias was playing with the pistol again.

     “Fame and wealth will do that, I suppose,” he continued. “But with friends come enemies, and when he left Elysian Row, he left a lot of enemies behind. He left you behind, if memory serves.”

     It was a cheap shot, but at least the shot the Commissioner had taken hadn’t come out of the end of that .45.

     “I don’t have to take this shit.”

     “Aw, there’s no need to blame yourself, Frost,” Commissioner Tiresias said condescendingly. “It’s not all your fault. Fame comes with a price. And eventually we all cash in—that’s why you came back, isn’t it? To cash in? Throw a party… put on a show… round up the usual suspects. Like I said, I know all about your ‘Million Dollar Bash,’” the Commissioner said tauntingly.

     “Well, I’m happy to see things haven’t changed,” Jack Frost replied. “One hand in your pants, the other drawn like a tight rope around the throats of the tenants of Elysian Row. And as for a concert? Hard to stage a show without a star, don’t you think?”

Go to Page 5 >>

Comments (2)