Ashes of Yesterday

Chapter 41

"Steppson's going all out," said Phalen.

It was the middle of the afternoon. Flix had slept for six hours and felt measurably better than he had earlier that morning.

"I talked to Tom Steele," said Phalen.

"You two are getting awfully chummy," said Flix.

"You sound like a jealous date," Phalen said.

"I do, don't I. Sorry. Blame it on the hangover."

"I will," said Phalen. "Steele is the only one who will talk freely. He has enough dirt on them to let him get away with it, I guess. Or maybe, he just doesn't give a damn anymore. Either way, I'm glad for his confidence in me."

"Me too," said Flix. "I certainly haven't been much help on this case."

"Blame it on your bullet wound," said Phalen.

Flix smiled.

"I think it becomes you, Cupid," he said. "The scar. It makes you look like a tough gangster."

"And what did I look like before I acquired this beauty mark? A daffodil?"

"No," said Phalen. "But you do fuss about your clothes a lot."

"I simply like to. . ." Flix stopped. "In all honesty, I probably did that because I was compensating."

"For what?" Phalen asked. "You're the smartest man I know."

"You came back from the war with a bullet wound to the leg. It healed. That was that. You know that I, on the other hand, did not come back whole."

"You came back, goddamn it! That should be enough," said Phalen.

"But try walking in my shoes," said Flix. "It should have been enough, I guess. I should have been overjoyed to be alive. And I was, don't get me wrong. So many of our friends did not come home. But I still felt, I don't know, cheated."

"You have your spindle. Albeit, it's not as long as it once was, but by god, it works. I've seen you sprinkle the lawn."

"You're right," said Flix. "I am trying to get over these feelings of, I don't know, inferiority."

"You? Inferior?" said Phalen. "It is all a matter of degrees. If you compare yourself to the Greek gods, well, Flix you are terribly inferior. I am, too. We all are. But there is no lack of measure in your manhood if you stack yourself up beside the rest of us mortals. Remember Dickie Goodspell? His hadn't been whacked off by shrapnel, but I swear it was shorter than yours. Naturally that way."

Flix laughed.

"Can we change the subject? I feel like a specimen under a microscope."

"Now, you know how those damn butterflies of yours feel on the end of a pin."

"Moths," Flix said. "I collect specimens of moths."

"Bugs, then," said Phalen.

"You win," said Flix.

"Only because you let me," said Phalen.

"They're burying DaneValley tomorrow at the Always a StarCemetery," Phalen said.

"Isn't that awful quick?" asked Flix.

"Tom Steele says the faster Steppson plants her in the ground, the quicker the rumor mill will grind to a screeching halt. Today's stars are tomorrow's forgotten flashes in the pan."

"I guess he has a point," said Flix. "I can see where Steppson is anxious to be rid of this whole mess and forget about it."

"Me too," said Phalen. "At least, Dane won't be buried in an unmarked grave. Tom said Steppson's burying her in a plot with a nice headstone near Reed Kimball's mausoleum."

"Kimball's buried there, too?"

"Yeah," said Phalen.

"Then, we must attend the service," said Flix. "I am dying to see who mourns the little starlet after the wolves have finished with her."

"Oh, I'm sure the wolves who do show up will be wearing their finest sheep's clothing."

"You jest," said Flix, "but I have a feeling your assessment is probably right."