"How come I played to lose?" I patted his shoulder. "Sonny, you got a
lot to learn. Jake's is no fair game. This was only a dry run."
Then I got rid of him, because I had something to do.
* * * * *
Henry came across. He even looked embarrassed. "I figured," he said,
"uh, I figured that the expenses--"
"Save it," I told him. "All I want is my split."
He handed it over, but I kept my hand out, waiting. After a minute he
got the idea. He reached down inside the waistband of his pants, pulled
loose the tape that held the dimes to his skin and handed over the
radio receiver. "That's it, huh?" he said.
"That's it."
"Take your best shot," he said glumly. "But mark my words. You're not
going to make out on your own."
"I won't be on my own," I told him, and left him then. By myself? Not
a chance! It was going to be Skippy and me, all the way. Not only
could he read minds, but the capper was that he couldn't read mine!
Otherwise, you can understand, I might not want him around all the time.
But this way I had my own personal bug in every game in town, and I
didn't even have to spend for batteries. Card games, gaffed wheels,
everything. Down at the track he could follow the smart-money guys
around and let me know what they knew, which was plenty. We could even
go up against the legit games in Nevada, with no worry about bluffs.
And think of the fringe benefits! With Skippy giving the women a
preliminary screening, I could save a lot of wasted time. At my age,
time is nothing to be wasted.
I could understand a lot about Skippy now--why he didn't like most
people, why he laughed at jokes nobody else thought were funny, or even
could hear. But everybody has got to like somebody, and I had the edge
over most of the human race. He didn't know what I was thinking.
And then, take away the voices in his head, and Skippy didn't have much
left. He wasn't very smart. If he had half as much in the way of brains
as he did in the way of private radar, he would have figured all these
angles out for himself long ago. No, he needed me. And I needed him.
We were all set to make a big score together, so I went back to his
rooming house where I'd told him to wait, to get going on the big time.
However, Henry had more brains than Skippy.
I hadn't told Henry who tipped me off, but it didn't take him long to
work out. After all, I had told him I was going out to look for Skippy,
and I came right back and called him for holding out. No, it didn't
take much brains. All he had to do was come around to Skippy's place
and give him a little lesson about talking.
So when I walked in the door, Skippy was there, but he was out cold,
with lumps on his forehead and a stupid grin on his face. I woke him up
and he recognized me.
But you don't make your TV set play better by kicking it. You don't
help a fine Swiss watch by pounding it on an anvil. Skippy could walk
and talk all right, but something was missing. "The voices!" he yelled,
sitting up on the edge of the bed.
I got a quick attack of cold fear. "Skippy! What's the matter? Don't
you hear them any more?"
He looked at me in a panic. "Oh, I hear them all right. But they're all
different now. I mean--it isn't English any more. In fact, it isn't any
language at all!"
* * * * *
Like I say, I'm a genius. Skippy wouldn't lie to me; he's not smart
enough. If he says he hears voices, he hears voices.
Being a genius, my theory is that when Henry worked Skippy over, he
jarred his tuning strips, or whatever it is, so now Skippy's receiving
on another frequency. Make sense? I'm positive about it. He sticks to
the same story, telling me about what he's hearing inside his head, and
he's too stupid to make it all up.
There are some parts of it I don't have all figured out yet, but I'll
get them. Like what he tells me about the people--I _guess_ they're
people--whose voices he hears. They're skinny and furry and very
religious. He can't understand their language, but he gets pictures
from them, and he told me what he saw. They worship the Moon, he says.
Only that's wrong too, because he says they worship two moons, and
everybody knows there's only one. But I'll figure it out; I have to,
because I have to get Skippy back in business.
Meanwhile it's pretty lonesome. I spend a lot of time down around the
old neighborhood, but I haven't set up another partner for taking the
card players. That seems like pretty small stuff now. And I don't talk
to Henry when I see him. And I _never_ go in the beanery when that
counterman is on duty. I've got enough troubles in the world; I don't
have to add to them by associating with _his_ kind.