Death, the Devil, and the Goldfish Read Online Free PDF

correct?"
    The question caught Itch off guard, and he felt that he was beginning to lose control of the conversation, so he answered quickly, just to make sure he was still involved. "Yes, I suppose that would be correct."
    Nigel continued with what most people would refer to as reckless abandon. "That's right. But, as we both know, I'm not an Australian flying squirrel, nor am I small or fuzzy. If flung off a building, I'd probably just end up dying. In which case you wouldn't get your money, and I would never again be able to make a large gamble that I couldn't afford, which in turn would cause me to borrow money off you that I would then have to pay back with interest, right?"
    Nigel could sense Itch's brain fighting with itself in complete confusion. Inflicting confusion was another of Nigel's gifts, and one he was quite proud of, although it really served no meaningful purpose aside from providing cheap entertainment and, if in the right situation, convincing a loan shark not to throw Nigel off a building.
    "Hang on a sec," said Itch, "what was that bit about the squirrel again?"
    "Okay, you've got me. How about this? We just agree that I pay you all the money back on Sunday?"
    Itch thought about the proposal for a second, and then decided that he must have won the conversation after all. "The whole amount by Sunday or hanging off the edge of buildings will be the least of your problems."
    "I don't want to hurt you, Nigel, but I will if I have to," said Big Ernie, who had missed the entire conversation.
    Itch glanced at Big Ernie to quit the one-liners, but the large man looked like he was having too much fun.
    "And I appreciate that, Ernie, really I do," said Nigel. "All the money by Sunday, I promise. You can trust me."
    Itch stepped away from the edge. "I don't trust you as far as I could drop you. But you have until Sunday."
    Big Ernie lifted Nigel back up onto the ledge and dropped him on the rooftop. Nigel jumped to his feet, brushed off his suit, and ran his hands through his hair. He smiled politely.
    "Don't suppose I could interest either of you in a quick cup of tea?"
    "Thanks, but we have three more people to hang off buildings today, and it looks like it's going to rain later, so we'd better get to it," said Itch politely.
    "Suit yourself. Nice view up here." And with that, Nigel turned and left.
    As he walked down the stairs, his heart slowed a bit, and he smiled at the fact that he hadn't been dropped off the building. He did, however, think that the time had come to pay these men back. He wasn't in the habit of borrowing money, but he had needed the fifty thousand for a trip to Vegas. He met Itch and Ernie through some contacts on the street and although he knew their business was completely illegal and technically he should arrest the pair of them, he just couldn't do it. They weren't a bad pair, really, and they knew far too much about him. If he arrested them, then his secret problem would no longer be a secret. But he wasn't worried; he knew how to get the money.
    Nigel exited the stairwell and walked calmly through the lobby of the building.
    He thought about where he had been going when Big Ernie had lifted him off the street. The station received a call this morning from a Mrs. Jones on Front Street who claimed that her cat had been possessed by the devil. Ordinarily, dispatch would send a uniformed constable to follow up on the report, but something horrific from a past investigation had stuck with Nigel. Something he'd put out of his mind until Mrs. Jones' phone call.
    Around a year ago, a disgraced priest had taken to chopping up certain members of his congregation. New Scotland Yard took a few weeks to put two and two together, and once they discovered the answer was clearly four, they then multiplied it by twenty-seven, added one-million-seven-hundred-thousand-three-hundred-and-ninety-one, then divided the whole thing by Pi, which came out with the answer