Brooklyn? We’re kind of in a jam, and I was hoping—”
A distressed damsel with deep pockets? I picked up. “Sorry, I just walked in. This is Garth Carson. How can I help you?”
“Hi. We’re doing a picture up in Park Slope, and we’ve got this sporting-goods-store scene. You rent taxidermy, right?”
“Yup. Lemme guess: You’re looking for a stand-up bear, a deer head, a boar head too, perhaps, and then maybe something to sit on the counter like a beaver, otter, or wolverine?”
“Uh, yeah, something like that, you know, to make it look like a sporting-goods store.”
“Rental rates are structured by big, medium, and small. Full-body mounts like a stand-up bear or sailfish are big at $250. Most heads and fish under four feet are medium at $100. Squirrels, weasel, birds, and so on are small at $50. We rent by the day (or portion thereof) or by the week over five days. You can tell me exactly what you want or have me put together a variety based on how many you want of each category.”
“Thing is, we sort of need this right away. Do you deliver?”
I started untying my smock. “Delivery is included in the five boroughs with orders over two-fifty. But there’s a ten percent one-day surcharge for same-day service.”
“Whatever. How about two of each?”
“No preferences? Mammals, fish, birds? Mixed bag?”
“Mixed bag.”
“How many days?” My pen was poised over a pad.
“I dunno. Let’s just say a week.”
Zowie! $2,500 + 1,000 + 500 + surcharge = four thou and change. “Address?”
Minutes later, I brought Angie her full mug.
“Thanks.” She swiveled away from her bench, slid her goggles atop her head, and took the coffee. “Got work?”
“Warner Brothers, in Brooklyn, Park Slope.” I drained my coffee and went to the closet for some moving blankets and polystyrene logs.
“How many pieces?”
“Six. Two each, for a week.”
“Not bad!” Angie toasted the air with her coffee mug. “With the dreaded surcharge, no less.”
“You bet. Gimme a hand?”
“Sure.”
In about forty minutes we had the trailer loaded with the standing black bear, though we had him on his back on polystyrene logs and blankets like he was tucked in for the night. In bed with the bruin was a nasty full-body wild pig. In the wild, they go after snakes, so I always bring a snake mount to put in the pig’s mouth—no extra charge. Arranged among blankets in the Lincoln’s backseat I had a ram’s head, a barracuda, a twin squirrel mount, and a wall-mount pheasant.
Angie brushed some blanket fluff off her sweatshirt. “You’re set. Be home in an hour or so?”
“Not if I can help it,” said a tweed man sauntering toward us.
I was just a little thunderstruck. You know, just a little, like atop a castle in a storm holding a steel rod. I found no words, so the tweed man turned from me to Angie.
“Hi.” He put out a hand. “The name’s Nicholas. Nicholas . . .” He gave me a sly look. “. . . Palihnic. Garth and I go way back. Childhood friends.”
Angie sensed my shock but shook his hand cordially. “Hi. I’m Angie. You’ll have to excuse Garth, he’s just on his way—”
“Still with the dead animals.” Palihnic surveyed the car’s backseat and locked eyes with me, nodding. “Garth never really was much one for words, were you?”
“Hi, Nick,” I finally mumbled. “Where you been?”
“I don’t want to hold you up, Garth. You headed out somewhere? Why don’t I ride along, and we can catch up.”
“Yeah, sure.” I answered Angie’s stare with a glance and a wink to let her know nothing was wrong. “Let’s go.”
“Fine.” Nicholas paused before opening the passenger door and admired the Lincoln. “Still got your dad’s old car.” He gave me one of his big smarmy smiles. “He’d be proud.”
My little brother got in, shut the door, and we drove off toward the West Side Highway.
Chapter 5
B oth as a brother and as a person, Nicholas had always harbored
A distressed damsel with deep pockets? I picked up. “Sorry, I just walked in. This is Garth Carson. How can I help you?”
“Hi. We’re doing a picture up in Park Slope, and we’ve got this sporting-goods-store scene. You rent taxidermy, right?”
“Yup. Lemme guess: You’re looking for a stand-up bear, a deer head, a boar head too, perhaps, and then maybe something to sit on the counter like a beaver, otter, or wolverine?”
“Uh, yeah, something like that, you know, to make it look like a sporting-goods store.”
“Rental rates are structured by big, medium, and small. Full-body mounts like a stand-up bear or sailfish are big at $250. Most heads and fish under four feet are medium at $100. Squirrels, weasel, birds, and so on are small at $50. We rent by the day (or portion thereof) or by the week over five days. You can tell me exactly what you want or have me put together a variety based on how many you want of each category.”
“Thing is, we sort of need this right away. Do you deliver?”
I started untying my smock. “Delivery is included in the five boroughs with orders over two-fifty. But there’s a ten percent one-day surcharge for same-day service.”
“Whatever. How about two of each?”
“No preferences? Mammals, fish, birds? Mixed bag?”
“Mixed bag.”
“How many days?” My pen was poised over a pad.
“I dunno. Let’s just say a week.”
Zowie! $2,500 + 1,000 + 500 + surcharge = four thou and change. “Address?”
Minutes later, I brought Angie her full mug.
“Thanks.” She swiveled away from her bench, slid her goggles atop her head, and took the coffee. “Got work?”
“Warner Brothers, in Brooklyn, Park Slope.” I drained my coffee and went to the closet for some moving blankets and polystyrene logs.
“How many pieces?”
“Six. Two each, for a week.”
“Not bad!” Angie toasted the air with her coffee mug. “With the dreaded surcharge, no less.”
“You bet. Gimme a hand?”
“Sure.”
In about forty minutes we had the trailer loaded with the standing black bear, though we had him on his back on polystyrene logs and blankets like he was tucked in for the night. In bed with the bruin was a nasty full-body wild pig. In the wild, they go after snakes, so I always bring a snake mount to put in the pig’s mouth—no extra charge. Arranged among blankets in the Lincoln’s backseat I had a ram’s head, a barracuda, a twin squirrel mount, and a wall-mount pheasant.
Angie brushed some blanket fluff off her sweatshirt. “You’re set. Be home in an hour or so?”
“Not if I can help it,” said a tweed man sauntering toward us.
I was just a little thunderstruck. You know, just a little, like atop a castle in a storm holding a steel rod. I found no words, so the tweed man turned from me to Angie.
“Hi.” He put out a hand. “The name’s Nicholas. Nicholas . . .” He gave me a sly look. “. . . Palihnic. Garth and I go way back. Childhood friends.”
Angie sensed my shock but shook his hand cordially. “Hi. I’m Angie. You’ll have to excuse Garth, he’s just on his way—”
“Still with the dead animals.” Palihnic surveyed the car’s backseat and locked eyes with me, nodding. “Garth never really was much one for words, were you?”
“Hi, Nick,” I finally mumbled. “Where you been?”
“I don’t want to hold you up, Garth. You headed out somewhere? Why don’t I ride along, and we can catch up.”
“Yeah, sure.” I answered Angie’s stare with a glance and a wink to let her know nothing was wrong. “Let’s go.”
“Fine.” Nicholas paused before opening the passenger door and admired the Lincoln. “Still got your dad’s old car.” He gave me one of his big smarmy smiles. “He’d be proud.”
My little brother got in, shut the door, and we drove off toward the West Side Highway.
Chapter 5
B oth as a brother and as a person, Nicholas had always harbored
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