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King Jacaro was a lord of racketeerdom. While Tommy inspected the Tube anxiously, a certain chief of police in a small town upstate was telling feverishly over the telephone of a posse having killed a monster lizard by torchlight, having discovered it in the act of devouring a cow. The lizard was eight feet high, walked on its hind legs, and had a collar of solid gold about its neck.
Watch it grow!" I watched; but, like most others, I was rather doubtful. It was true that the Clarion immediately showed signs of reviving life. And that Jim Dabney, a college friend from upstate, whom Laurence had induced to accept the rather precarious position of editor and manager, wrote pleasantly as well as pungently, and so set us all to talking.
He made call after call, and his demands for information grew more urgent as he got closer to the source of trouble. His cause for worry was verified long before he had finished. Even as he made the first call, New York newspapers had crowded a second-grade murder off their front pages to make room for the white mist upstate. The early-morning editions had termed it a "poisonous fog."
I'm going to see him soon; I've been saving up. I mean, he's paid for the ticket, but I want to have my own money when I get there." "Right," Joe said. "I'm from Maine and upstate New York, originally. I've been in New Haven. I love those old Yale buildings." "Awesome," Rhiannon agreed. "My father doesn't think much of Yalies." "Good man," Joe said. "So, what does your mom do?"
I got it all fixed right, and then I bought your little upstate shop lock, stock and barrel and gave you this for it. A fair exchange is no robbery. Though it would be nice to have it all in the family, eh?" Ross was silent for a few turbulent moments, revolving this far from pleasing information. "What'd I do it for?" continued the unasked benefactor. "What do you think I did it for?
He brought out an envelope, dug into it, and found what he was looking for an old newspaper clipping dated some ten years back. It consisted of a headline: LOCAL POLITICIAN DISAPPEARS The clipping was from the Kenton, New York, Chronicle, an upstate weekly, and the news story told how Judge Sam Baker had vanished on a fishing trip to a nearby lake.
Lawrence, Ontario, and other backwoods counties. Why should anybody be surprised because ex-Governor Odell comes down here to direct the Republican machine? Newburg ain't big enough for him. He, like all the other upstate Republicans, wants to get hold of New York City. New York is their pie.
She brought with her the smell of spring. He smelled like upstate New York dirt, dairy farms, and industrial towns. She was kind. They both were, although he had a bitter streak that dragged at him. The pigeons took off in a sudden rush, flapping and swerving around the trees. Don stood and walked slowly across the square. "So long, Ruby." "Be good, now," she said.
"John Dennis." "You look like a man named Sam Baker. He disappeared about ten years ago from a little town upstate." "I am John Dennis." King shrugged. "Okay, you're John Dennis. All I want to do is stay on top of this thing and have the inside track when it breaks." "Brent Taber told you to forget about it." King did not like the odd feeling of helplessness that seemed to have a grip on him.
Upon the bench Judge Witherspoon, assigned from somewhere upstate to help keep down the ever-lengthening criminal calendar of the Metropolitan District, finished the letter he was writing to his wife in Genesee County, sealed it and settled back in his chair.
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