The Search for the Dice Man Read Online Free Page A

an inquiry about someone I haven’t seen in more than fifteen years. I couldn’t help them and they left.’
    ‘Really!?’ exclaimed Mr Battle, scrutinizing me as if wondering if I’d really thought he’d swallow that one. ‘Fifteen years It must have been a pretty horrendous crime. Who was it, some serial killer?’
    ‘They didn’t say why they were seeking the man,’ I said. ‘They were vague and ambiguous. But I can assure you the whole thing has nothing to do with me or my work here at BB&P.’
    Mr Battle continued to gaze at me as if wondering why I was telling all these lies.
    ‘And who is this man the FBI is so curious about that they seek out people who haven’t seen him in fifteen years?’
    Oh, Jesus. Here it comes. Everything I’d been trying to hide.
    ‘Uh, a relative, sir. A man who disappeared a long ti – fifteen years ago.’
    ‘A relative!’ said Mr Battle. ‘That could be distressing. Not a close relative, I hope.’
    Oh, Jesus.
    ‘I … uh … was never close to him.’
    ‘Who is it, an uncle?’
    I stared back at Mr Battle numbly.
    ‘My father,’ I said.
    Mr Battle looked not surprised but confused.
    ‘But your father is dead.’
    ‘Uh, not necessarily.’
    ‘Not necessarily! I distinctly remember when reviewing your personnel file a few months ago that both your parents were deceased!’
    ‘Uh, yes, sir. My mother was killed in an auto accidentand my father hasn’t been seen or heard from in – more than a decade. I, uh, assumed that he was dead.’
    ‘And now you discover he is a serial killer!?’
    ‘No, no, I’m sure he’s not – the FBI didn’t say why they wanted to contact him.’
    ‘Contact him!’ Mr Battle exclaimed, now sitting ramrod-straight in his chair and glaring at me. ‘Arrest him, you mean! My God, man, you must have some idea why they’re looking for him!?’
    ‘I really don’t!’ I answered, feeling myself squirming. ‘Years ago – almost twenty years ago – he got in some trouble with the FCC for disrupting a television programme and the unauthorized release of mental patients, and, uh, a few other matters. But the FBI indicated they wished to see him now about something else.’
    Mr Battle, still eyeing me, rose from his chair and moved slowly forward with the soft tread of a predator about to pounce on its prey before the hypnotic spell was broken.
    ‘This is a serious business, my boy,’ he said.
    ‘Yes – I mean no. I’m sure my father hasn’t done anything serious. I think they just wanted to talk to him about something.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ said Mr Battle, coming to a halt three feet away and gazing at me again with that sceptical-physician stare that implied he was still seeking the exact nature of my fatal illness. ‘The FBI doesn’t send two men to question a son who hasn’t seen his father in fifteen years because they only want to talk to the man.’
    Mr Battle stared on another moment and then turned away with a sigh.
    ‘This won’t do, Larry, won’t do,’ he said as he slowly returned around the pingpong table to his seat behind it. ‘I can’t have my daughter marrying the son of someone on the FBI’s “most wanted” list.’ With another sigh he sat down and swung around to face me.
    ‘I want her to marry the son of a man who is respectably deceased. I think you may tell people that this FBI visitwas to ask you about a former employee. Do you understand?’
    ‘I think I do.’
    ‘It’s safe to say it’s in your interest to see that your father stays boringly buried.’
    ‘I agree, but suppose –’
    ‘Your personnel file states that your father is no longer alive,’ Mr Battle said, beginning to shuffle some papers on his desk. ‘Let us be content with the official truth.’
    He then rang for his secretary and turned to gaze at the monitor on his desk – the interview was over. Until I could prove otherwise, my father would probably remain, in Mr Battle’s mind, a corpse and a mass