The Man of Maybe Half-a-Dozen Faces Read Online Free PDF

crap, Brian,” Frank said. His face had gone red when I called him “Francis.” Back in the fifth grade, I’d taken my revenge by telling everyone “Frank” was really short for “Francis” and people believed me, and Frank couldn’t get away from it. He even went around one day with his birth certificate showing kids on the playground that his name was “Franklin Wallace.” Didn’t help. In junior high he tried to get everyone to call him “Wally” but no one would.
    He sat down in the white plastic client chair in front of my desk. “I have some questions.”
    Marvin stood just behind and a little to one side of Frank, showing me his repertoire of dirty looks. He was getting pretty good at it. Maybe he’d been practicing in front of his mirror.
    I smiled at him, and he automatically returned the smile, realized what he’d done, and went back to giving me the evil eye. His standing there like a trained gorilla made me nervous as hell, but I tried not to show it.
    â€œAlways happy to cooperate, Lieutenant,” I said.
    â€œI’m happy to hear that, Brian,” Frank said. “I want to know what you have to do with Prudence Deerfield. Did she tell you where her brother is?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “She said she didn’t know where he was.”
    â€œAnd so you’re looking for him?”
    â€œI’m looking for him.”
    â€œYou don’t want to be holding out on me, Brian,” he said. “What is this Skylight Howells baloney anyway?”
    â€œHis folks took the sixties way too seriously,” Marvin said. He walked over to my printer and bent at the waist to peer down behind it.
    â€œWhat? They waited till he was in high school to name him?” Frank said. “Or maybe one day everyone started calling him Brian Dobson and it just sort of caught on?”
    Confusion swamped me for a moment. “It’s the name of the agency, Frank,” I said.
    â€œYou must have done a lot of research to come up with something so lame.”
    â€œHey,” Marvin said, “maybe there was this secret government project and Brian was kidnapped and replaced by an alien baby and Skylight was the code name for the whole business.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” Frank twisted around to look over at Marvin.
    I had to wonder. Did Marvin know something? Was the reason he seemed so suddenly agitated not that he’d just said something stupid but that he’d just let something slip?
    â€œNice cable you got on your printer,” Marvin said.
    â€œWhat?” I said. “You think I wouldn’t have replaced the cable after strangling Gerald Moffitt with the old one?”
    â€œJust checking, Brian,” Marvin said. He walked back to his station behind Frank.
    â€œMaybe you should open a Pee Eye booth at the Saturday market, Brian,” Frank said. Yes, my spelling reflects just the way he said it.
    The Saturday market was where our local artists and craftspeople sold their goods. If you walked down to the end of the hall outside my office, you could look out the window and see it on Saturdays.
    â€œYou could charge a nickel,” Frank said.
    I decided to see if I could get Frank off my ass. “How did you guys know Ms. Deerfield came to me in the first place?”
    â€œThat’s not your concern,” Frank said. “What I want is for you to tell me everything you know about the murders.”
    â€œMurders?” I asked. “Like more than one?” My turn to be knocked off balance.
    â€œYou don’t watch the news?” Frank looked up at Marvin. “You see a TV in here, Sergeant?”
    â€œI don’t see a TV,” Marvin said.
    â€œYou don’t seem very well informed for a hotshot Pee Eye,” Frank said.
    â€œI’ve been busy,” I said. “So who else was killed? And what makes you think it has anything to do with the