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CRANKYBLANCA
CHAPTER FOUR: THE TROLLS WORE GRAY, YOU WORE BLUE.
RBB [voiceover]: My students were looking at me oddly, and they had a point. I was supposed to be leading them through an analysis of the role of law-making, language, and stories in Isaac Asimov's I, ROBOT, and there I was staring out into space, twiddling a piece of chalk between my fingers. One student managed to get my attention; I snapped out of it, apologized profusely, and adjourned class. I figured I could catch up on the discussion in the next meeting.
I headed out of the lecture hall and towards the elevator. For once, the damn thing went express instead of local, and we dropped from the sixth floor to the first floor without interruption. I emerged in the hallway and headed left, towards the maze of corridors that would lead me to the cafeteria and a badly-needed cup of coffee.
I didn't want to think about Crankyland. Things had gone weird there, all too swiftly, and I did not know how to cope. For one thing, there were the four murders, and the links between them. Mr. Cranky himself had been implicated, though it was my operating theory, at least, that he had nothing to do with them. The homicide detectives, JYD and zeppo, reluctantly agreed with me, as did Doc Rochelle. But things had quieted down after we discovered the links among the murders. Not even the good doctor's thorough revisit of all four autopsies gleaned anything more -- no fibers, no hair or tissue samples, nothing.
Something was wrong in Crankyland, but I was goddamned if I knew what it was. No further disappearances became evident, no further corpses turned up, and Mr. C was strangely uncommunicative. I had heard that he was at some film festival, and I figured that the cops wouldn't let him leave the jurisdiction if they had any reason to worry about his culpability.
Suddenly, I realized that there was somebody waiting for me at the entrance to C Building. Actually, there were two people, and they both were cops.
JYD: Professor, we need to talk to you.
RBB: Sure, boys, what seems to be the problem?
zeppo: We've got another body.
RBB: Crap. Who is it this time?
JYD: The Creep, the Freak, and the Loser.
RBB: Three bodies?
zeppo: No, Prof, just the one. That's what he called himself.
RBB: Sorry, I know that. I was just joking. I'm a bit too flip today. Damn it, I liked CFL. Who would want to kill him?
JYD: Somebody who has it in for Jason Cranky.
zeppo: Yes, it's the same guy. I'd bet his pension on it.
JYD: MY pension?
zeppo: I'm too cautious to bet my pension anything. Anyway, it's the same m.o., the same calling cards -- scars on the hand to make a Roman numeral V for five, and a photo of Big Ben with the "V" circled in red.
RBB: What about Jason Cranky?
zeppo: What about him?
JYD: Professor ... we're not looking at him any more for this.
RBB: He'll be pleased.
zeppo: But you won't be. Look, we don't believe it, but we have to check it out. Where were you between the hours of 4:30 and 6:00 on Monday?
RBB [voiceover]: I didn't have the time to get angry; I was too surprised by the question. It was one of those rare times in my schedule when I had lots of witnesses to where I was and what I was doing. I just blurted the answer out.
RBB: In class, in this building, in front of thirty-five students, just like today. We meet Mondays and Wednesdays. Monday I was on, really focused. Today was harder, and at the end they sat there watching me have a fugue moment. I drifted out of focus for a minute or two and had to end class because the train of thought I was following left the station without me.
zeppo: That's good. Because we got this tip that it was your doing, and pinning it down to those times on Monday.
JYD: I hate tips. They never pan out the way you want them to.
RBB: Anonymous tip?
JYD: No. This one, the guy was on the record. Name of grundle. You know him?
RBB [voiceover]: He was still at it, the goddamned lying bastard. And it figured that he'd make a charge that was so damned easy to explode. He never did his research for anything with any kind of competence. Even so, it made me furious. For a moment, I saw red, and through my haze of anger I saw the two cops look at me nervously and zeppo get ready to jump me and restrain me. The sight made me take a deep breath, and I recovered my composure. But when I spoke, the anger and bitterness still suffused my voice.
RBB: That little weasel has had it in for me for months now, ever since he started using Crankyland as his own personal Libertarian propaganda website and we started playing truth-squad on him.
JYD: We kind of figured as much, Professor, but it's not a good idea to pass up any tip.
zeppo: Even a tip that's bogus on its face, you know.
RBB: That goddamned bastard...
zeppo: Prof, are we going to have to --
RBB: No, Lieutenant, I'm not going to do anything foolish.
JYD: You'd better not, Professor.
RBB [voiceover]: I agreed to meet them later at the morgue to go over the body with Doc Rochelle, and they shook hands and left, students staring curiously after them.
Even so, I wasn't quite honest with the guys from Homicide. I had other plans between now and then. I headed for Crankyland, and for Cranky's Cafe Americain. The joint was jumping, but it's always jumping at every time of day and night. I don't know how the Great Purple One does it, but it's his joint, and I'm not complaining.
On the main floor there was the usual crowd, talking and jostling and eating and drinking and carousing just as they always do. But I was looking for someone in particular. I saw him in the corner, sitting alone, staring greedily at a scantily-clad cigarette girl. I decided on a surprise confrontation.
I strode over to his table and, before he knew it, I had him by both lapels and was shoving him up against the wall. I looked into his furtive, watery eyes, which looked enormous in his pale, pasty face. He was trying to look brave, but his Adam's apple was quivering in his scrawny neck and his uncombed hair trembled with every heave of breath he was fighting to get into his lungs.
RBB: I warned you about that kind of crap, didn't I? DIDN'T I?
grundle: Can't you take a joke?
RBB: Joke? JOKE? Telling two homicide detectives that you saw me murdering someone and disposing of the body is a JOKE?!
RBB [voiceover]: I shook him for emphasis. He gasped and bleated, but I was too angry to bother with him. I felt his weak hands flailing away at me, which was laughable as he topped me by a good six inches, but I was stronger than he was and filled with righteous anger.
RBB: You accused me publicly of being a fan of child porn, and of sexually harassing my students. It's not bad enough that you poison every intellectual discussion into which you slither; it's not bad enough that you lie and misrepresent and bullshit your way through everything -- oh, no. You have to fling false criminal charges. I could have you slammerized for this, you know that? DO YOU?
grundle: I have a right to free speech....
RBB: I quote: "The most stringent protection of free speech will not protect someone who falsely shouts 'Fire!' in a crowded theater with the intent of causing a panic." That's Justice Holmes, writing for the Supremes in SCHENCK V. UNITED STATES, in 1918. It's still true, you lying fuckwit. Do you get that? DO YOU? Why shouldn't I file a complaint against you with JYD right now?
X-MAN: Leave him alone, you slut! grundle got your goat really good that time.
RBB [voiceover]: I never knew why Cranky always let kids into his bistro, but he did, and this one was maybe the most annoying kid there. His voice hadn't changed yet, but he always was pretending he knew more than he did about things; I'd seen hat-check clerks bat his hand away from their shapely rear ends each night for a month, and one of them had bodily thrown him out of the cafe all by herself.
RBB: Go away, little man. I'm talking to your lying friend, here.
RBB [voiceover]: Suddenly a large shadow loomed over us, and I looked around. It was Wolfman, Cranky's favorite bouncer and enforcer. He was a big guy, with a large tangled beard and a friendly gaze. Right now he was just standing there, but if he chose to, he could make a tyrannosaurus meekly pay its bill and leave quietly.
WOLFMAN: Professor, is there a problem?
RBB: This lying trash tried to get me fingered for a homicide, Wolfman. But he won't admit it. Call JYD if you want proof.
WOLFMAN: I see ... Did you do that, grundle?
grundle: In a libertarian world, anyone could say anything he wants to anyone and have no fear at all!
WOLFMAN: You didn't answer my question, pally. Did you do that?
grundle: Laws against murder would just enforce themselves, for everyone would be so busy happily getting and spending that they wouldn't have time to commit crimes.
RBB: See what I mean about him?
WOLFMAN: I do indeed.
X-MAN: You leave him alone, you liar!
WOLFMAN: Go away, kid, you bother me. grundle, you did it, and you're not owning up to what you did. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're becoming a troll, and we don't let trolls do too much mischief here in the cafe.
grundle: You're a liberal, just like Richard. Liberals want to tell everyone what to do. All the time!
RBB [voiceover]: At that, I smiled grimly and let go of grundle; I knew that Wolfman would take over and he did. A large hand attached to a strong, firm arm shot out and grasped grundle around his scrawny neck. His eyes bulged out as Wolfman leaned closer and glared into grundle's terrified face.
WOLFMAN: I'm not a liberal. Mr. Cranky owns this cafe. He hired me to enforce his private property rights. That is what I am doing. You're here on his sufferance, remember? That's what it says on the sign out front. Remember? Now, grundle, will you leave with your little pal here, or will I have to assist your departure?
RBB [voiceover]: When Wolfman starts sounding like Joe Mantegna, even the most heedless bozo starts to pay attention -- and especially when Wolfman has his fingers around the bozo's throat. grundle nodded convulsively, and Wolfman let go, half-tossing grundle back against the wall. The little bastard stood there, massaging his throat, and then he gathered his things and prepared to go. X-MAN stood there, angrily glaring at us, his eyes filled with tears of frustration.
X-MAN: You're both liberal fascists!
RBB: Here, kid, go buy yourself the latest issue of Ayn Rand Comix and get out of here.
RBB [voiceover]: The two sulkily flounced out towards the front door, and I turned to go, but Wolfman had his hand on my shoulder now, and I paused and met his gaze evenly.
WOLFMAN: You were right on the merits, Professor, but wrong on procedure.
RBB: I had a right to get angry, Wolfman.
WOLFMAN: Maybe, pal, but it could have gotten ugly.
RBB: Not with you around.
WOLFMAN: You have a point, Professor.
PRINCESS OF PMS: He certainly does.
RBB [voiceover]: I turned around, and there she was. I'd been thinking on and off about Princess for a long time. Things after the Namagomi-chan case had been rough; she had headed off on her own road, and I'd returned to mine, but we knew that there was unfinished business between us. I figured that we'd meet again, sooner or later, and probably in Cranky's Cafe Americain. I smiled with genuine pleasure to see her. She was still the same, taller than I am, beautiful posture and bearing, her dark shoulder-length hair doing things to me as it always did. Princess combined that wondrous and unique mix of beauty and intellect that always makes my heart feel like an elevator in free fall.
RBB: Can I buy you a drink?
PRINCESS: Sure. Let's go downstairs. This place is too noisy for a real talk.
RBB: Sure thing, Princess. Where's Ivan?
PRINCESS: He is busy, but not far away. Nobody's really far away who has been part of Crankyland....
RBB: Well, sometimes it feels that way. It's been a long time, hasn't it?
PRINCESS: Yes, Richard, it has. I don't want to pry, but there's something in your face....
RBB: What do you mean?
PRINCESS: You seem sadder than usua. I -- I gather that things with *her* didn't ... ?
RBB: No. They didn't.
PRINCESS: I'm sorry, Richard.
RBB: Thanks, Princess, but you don't have to be. It was a suicide mission by the end, but I was too damn loyal to her and to my word; you know I don't like to give up. Even so, you give her three chances, and when she blows the third one, that has to be it.
PRINCESS: That makes sense. Sorry I brought it up, though.
RBB: Of all people, you have no reason to apologize to me for that. Let's go downstairs.
PRINCESS: That's where we last saw each other, isn't it?
RBB: Yes. The trolls wore gray and you wore blue.
PRINCESS: I like that movie, too. I hear you're on another case. I thought you swore off ionvestigations that didn't have a focus two hundred years in the past.
RBB: I did, but they have a way of pulling you in whether you want them to or not.
PRINCESS: May I hear about it?
RBB: When we're settled in downstairs, kid....
[...to be continued...]
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