“What now?” Foster asked in the front seat.
“Now? Now we go meet Thile and The Moveable Feast. And I have to pick up my last paycheck.”
Klasper St. Pettigrew had eight jobs, three of which were unilaterally illegal, with a possible fourth depending on how the city council ruled at its next meeting.
His first job was cleaning a Laundromat after hours, emptying the lint filters and removing any abandoned clothing from the machines. There was a lost and found bin, but Klasper preferred to hoard the clothes and sell huge bags worth every few weeks at the thrift store.
His second job was manning a wok at the local American-Chinese restaurant, Glorious Panda. His specialty was lo mein noodles and a Szechwan chicken worthy of a class-action lawsuit.
His third job was walking Mr. Kerber’s nine schnauzers, which he named after the nine Muses of Greek mythology. Unfortunately, Clio and Melpomene had been run over by a truck; they were replaced with two new schnauzers, named Marbles and Doctor Cuddles. On the whole, they were a sickly, decrepit lot of dogs, although Thalia was by far the healthiest schnauzer.
Klasper’s fourth job was as a house painter, which he did occasionally with Thile Knitwool.
His fifth job was as a cashier at the local vegan delicatessen, the Verdant Vole, where The Moveable Feast bought all his falafel and kosher soda. Their pastrami was the best in town.
Klasper’s sixth job was as a teaching assistant for an online course at the community college, pertaining to the works of John Milton. Klasper had never actually spoken to any of his hundreds of students over the years, although he was well versed in Milton. Rather, Klasper ran it with the help of a program installed on his computer that emailed assignments to the classlist, graded Scantrons (the sole basis of grading, although Klasper did ask them to write essays) and automatically filed student papers into his email’s trash bin. For all his nonwork, Klasper received a healthy stipend and his flock received three introductory English credits.
His seventh job was as a car hood ornament thief. He worked on commission for used car salesman trying to pawn off lemons as quality, affordable luxury vehicles. Klasper also sold them to middle schoolers looking for “bling” to wear around their necks.
Finally, his eighth job was nebulous gangster work, which Klasper did not talk about except by the most abstruse allusions usually involving paved sidewalks.
The city council ruling, by the way, pertained to the licensing of house painters. Neither Klasper nor Thile were licensed.
Klasper’s last paycheck was at the Verdant Vole.
As Klasper cajoled Lycidas out from the curb, Foster stared airily in the rear view mirrors. With a sudden impulse he reached his arm back and pulled out his stereocube from the duffel bag in the back seat. With delicacy, he placed it on the dashboard and started it. Jethro Tull’s “Thick As A Brick” started washing over the front of the car. Klasper groaned.
“Criminy, not more of this fey skit,” he said.
Foster smiled and looked back. The rear of the car was a panoply of containers, the sun slanting gently over them. Then Foster’s eyes followed to the shipping box poked with holes. He hadn’t even asked Klasper about it. And then his eyes followed to a man in gray standing just outside the front door of the house. And he saw the box shake, and he saw the man in gray start walking toward Lycidas.
“Klasp.”
He looked back.
“… Criminy.”
