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Detective-Sergeant Claude Mulvihill sat in his squad car, which was parked on 54th Street in front of Bright Star Recording Studios. He had just finished the second of two jelly donuts and was spiking his coffee with three packets of sugar.
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80500
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As Zoë says, “You and your musician friends drink in industrial quantities.”
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83100
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Ben Clarone watched Dan Arris get into the Brighton Beach Car Service car and leave the departure zone of the Pan Am Worldport terminal at JFK. Ben’s rare all wood contrabass clarinet, which his repairman, Sal Frompini, had spent the last six hours adjust
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96701
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Ben gagged after shot-gunning the scotch. He hiccupped and it came back up through his nose. He grabbed a napkin and caught most of a shot and a half of Whyte & MacKay as it poured out his nose.
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67900
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Gabe had told the stewardess that he wanted to talk to Ben. Her name was Claudia and she knew whom he was talking about. That foxy musician Ben, thought Gabe, he probably boned her on some previous flight.
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83100
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Ben watched Monique disappear into the first-class cabin. It didn’t seem likely that he would see her again after this flight.
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82700
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-Ben, you mean you could get whacked for a couple of paintings?
-Well, Gabe, there's more to it than a couple of paintings, but my lips are sealed.
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Now you are a raving bare-forked fool madman with nothing.
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84800
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Ben shook his head in disbelief: Was this some theatrical soothsayer trick of Ida’s?
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76900
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What do you Americans say, here is ze kicker?
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87100
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Wait a minute, said Ben. What do we really know?
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86800
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This will take forever. I’ll never get to Antibes to meet Isabella, much less make it to Marseille to deliver the picture and then catch the overnight train to Paris. I may have to call Jean-Claude Lyon, the orchestra manager of the Monte Carlo orchestra,
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85700
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Al-Sidran pulled out a switchblade knife from his pocket and proceeded to carefully cut open the box. Ben could tell it was razor sharp by the way it cut through the packing tape and cardboard.
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87400
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They sat eating and looking at each other. To Ben, Claudia was certainly a handsome woman and a good bed partner, but he was getting more and more suspicious of her motives.
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Ben panicked momentarily. Which passport?
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-Serves you right, you double agent bitch, spat Arris.
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Inspector Paumé hung up the telephone. He looked at Dan Arris, who was staring out the window, shook his head and walked into the bathroom one more time to gaze upon the naked dead body of Claudia Monschaud.
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Ben followed Jean-Claude’s white Fiat. Every time Ben shifted gears, he was reminded of Arris’s punch.
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There was no one there, but the smell of cooked bacon permeated the hall, triggering borborygmus in his stomach. He loved that word, but not his empty stomach.
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Ben was dreaming of sex with Claudia. But, in his dream, he could hear Dan Arris calling his name and pounding on a door. The fear of Dan Arris was pushing out the delights of Claudia.
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Gabe took the huge spoon and loaded it with half of his mousse. He nibbled a bite off the spoon. A big smile, amplified by Gabe’s large head, filled his face and brightened the whole room.
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We had sex, but hadn’t established a strong relationship. We liked each other as more than friends, but I was worried that Claudia was acting as a honey trap and spying on me for Dan Arris.
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108721
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Ben was in no mood for games. His ribs hurt and his eye was painful. He would have to tell this girl, who had flicked her tongue in his ear and who did not sound like Sophie, to get lost
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79100
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He found a small place on a side street, Bar Oiseaux Ésotérique. There was a sign on the door that read: Jazz Ce Soir: Giovanni Lezardino: Jazz grillé et sautés. Ben had met Lezardino at the Newport Jazz Festival last year.
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Ben woke in a black mood. His head was ready to explode and his throat was raw
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109741
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This artist has a wonderful sense of line and color. Abstract is not my métier, but I appreciate the art behind this painting. It helps to copy it. You sleep with it for a time and, like a woman, you learn her passions and taboos.
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Who better to know the wiles of the fox than the vixen herself?
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Ben was not a happy musician.
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Besotted by an overload of scotch, Ben’s brain barely alerted him to loud knocking at his door.
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Then he took the tune out to Ben Clarone land. The horn was beautiful, if leaky. His fingers flew over the keys.
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