Have you made it this far? Haven’t been nodding off, have you? Don’t worry, I’m almost done here. Call it a hunch (or call it hindsight) but when I was standing in the residence of Karenina Montgomery, I felt I was near the end too.
As much as I hated to admit it, seeing Rice bloom before me as an apparition (whether from whatever’s beyond this world or from my subconscious) was making me lose my nerve. Maybe he (or I) knew something about this case I didn’t. I took the picture of the bull crane from my pocket and looked it over. Seeing that strange thing again reminded me of the girl in the tartan comforter, who gave me the Regent lead in the first place.
Speaking truthfully, before getting those Finnish telegrams in the mail—and stumbling on the corpse of my old professor in his library stacks hovel—I had not had many cases as a private detective. I could count them on my left hand. I will, because there were five.
With the Bible in my coat pocket, I ambled up College Court, looking for the address McDaniels gave me. I always got thrown off by the rows of houses in how similar they looked. I still felt uneasy about meeting some former students along the way; I was ripe for skewering that night, between the professor’s death and the myriad of oddities pertaining to this case.
The first question you might have about a memoir from Sonic Youth frontwoman/bass guitarist Kim Gordon is: “What is she gonna say about ex-husband Thurston Moore?” Gordon anticipated this. Fittingly, “Girl in a Band” starts in media res, with a chapter called “The End.”
Unless my eyes deceive me (and my ears, and [just for the heck of it] my tongue as well), it’s springtime! And what a lovely time!
College Court was not at the top of my go-to destinations list. I had a lot of enemies there. Or maybe I hoped I had a lot of enemies there. The line gets sort of blurry.
With winter still doing all its wily winter things, you might be thinking of a way to expedite its termination and usher in a lovely spring season. Or you might be thinking of a way to skip it entirely. Sadly, as time travel is not possible yet (since all the trials centered on hitching monkeys to tachyons have ended in disaster thus far), you may be looking for some other way to make time pass more quickly.
Getting food is a tricky enterprise for a private eye. A fine line must be maintained between being a customer and being a regular, especially when you go to places you don’t want to be a regular. But you just can’t help it.
There was something unreal about seeing Julianna Barwick do her sound check in Der Rathskeller Friday night. She didn’t do any “check one, check two” routine, no onomatopoeias were uttered. Instead, she held notes into the microphone, like angelic offerings. Using the console in front of her, she piled vocal on vocal and with some sort of switch, set the sounds into a loop.