Read The Lasko Tangent for Free Online Page B

suited me. The fireplace and the fine old wood floors were still there. The living room was large, with a chandelier and shuttered windows which looked out on a garden. And there were two bedrooms and plenty of room for my paintings and books.
    I opened the door and knocked over my tennis racket. I had forgotten to play this evening. I plodded to the kitchen nook, poured myself a careless martini, and stuck a frozen pizza into the oven. I bolted the first martini and, in a reckless mood, poured a second. Then I pulled the pizza from the oven. I ate hungrily, my good-taste buds desensitized by gin, then contemplated an empty evening. I was rereading War and Peace, but wasn’t in the mood, and was dating a couple of girls, whom I didn’t want to see. In desperation, I flicked on my seldom-used television. It carried a special treat, a press conference starring Lasko’s friend, the President. I felt neither antipathy nor admiration. I looked over the image for something I had missed. If he lived anywhere other than deep within himself, it was in the eyes. He was poised enough, but on the occasional question, the eyes blinked for a moment, as if in doubt of their owner’s adequacy. I wondered what accounted for that. His well-ventilated early poverty, perhaps. That could twist some people into admiring a Lasko and doubting themselves.
    I decided to listen to the words. “And so, in response to the justified concern of our citizens, I am proposing to the Congress the Safe Streets and Neighborhoods Act. My study of history persuades me that at the heart of every fallen civilization which has preceded us was the lack of will to resist crime and disorder. Our administration is already moving to eliminate the root causes of crime—racism, poverty and deprivation.” The head shook disapprovingly at the words. I found myself wondering where he stood on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. “Now with the pledge of five billion dollars to assist and augment local law enforcement, we promise to all Americans safety, security, and freedom from fear in their streets and neighborhoods.”
    I turned him off. Then I advanced to my window to see if the neighborhood looked safer. I couldn’t see any difference. A police siren whined in the distance. I went to bed disappointed.
    Six
     
     
    The day before he died was clear and bright.
    I went to the office early, closed my door, and finished Sam Green’s subpoena. I was just signing it when Marty Gubner telephoned.
    “Christopher, how are you?” Gubner’s strong New York voice carried friendly irony. He was one of those lawyers who made his living representing the people we investigated. In a way, we were his personal Works Projects Administration. Gubner and I liked each other well enough; we took our work seriously, but related in an offhand way. After all, we had to get along.
    “Fine, Marty. Are you calling because you miss the sound of my voice? I didn’t know we were doing business at the moment.”
    “I didn’t know until this morning. I hear you’re investigating Lasko Devices.”
    I didn’t bother denying it. “Where did you hear that?”
    “Ike Feiner sent a subpoena to Lasko Devices asking for trading records. The subpoena showed you as investigating officer.”
    “All right,” I said. Gubner’s voice carried a strange undertone, more tentative than usual. I waited to find out what it was.
    “I’m calling on behalf of someone who wants to talk about Lasko Devices. He’s asked me to set up a meeting.”
    “Sure. Who is he?”
    Gubner remained silent. “Marty?”
    “I can’t tell you right now.”
    It was a first. “This is fun,” I said. “Let me guess. Is it Judge Crater?” The silence was deafening. “How about Martin Bormann?”
    “I’m serious.”
    “Hang on. Does his name start with a consonant?”
    “Look, Chris, I called up to give you some information, not solicit your little funnies.”
    I hesitated. The anger was real and seemed to