On Tap

"MacAverty, what're you doing here so early?"

"The ol' prof! Whuzzer'onor 'ere?"

"He's chasing your chasers, 'sir.'"

"I see. So what's the deal, my man? Have you seen your ghost?"

"Aye. 'Twas in the book you gave me."

"I gave you no book."

"Did you not? HICCUP! Well, your 'sistant, then."

"My assistant? You mean Nahbi? I haven't seen him in weeks. When did you see him?"

"'Esterd'y."

"Was he all right, man? Did he look well to you?"

"Suppose. Your book. 'Tis cruel."

"He's been saying that all morning. What sort of book did you give him? He won't even look me in the eye. And you know how he likes to look at me!"

"MacAverty. Have you talked to McBride? Maybe he could talk some sense into you. I've given you no book. I gave no book to Nahbi."

"McBride's d'd."

"Dead? That's where you're wrong. I just saw him walking down the road. We said hello but didn't chat."

"'E's no McBride. 'Tis a variant."

"Variant? Where did you get that word?"

"'R booo-ook."

"And I tell you I wrote no book. I've only got notes. See, here's my briefcase. Here's my..." I usually kept my notes in a manila folder but the folder was gone. Did I leave it sitting next to the computer last night? Got to stop slipping into sleep with Bushmills on my belly.

"See, guv'na. Ya wrote't and dint know't."

"You want a pint, 'sir'?"

"Stop it, will you? I'm not your father."

"Old enough is good enough."

"But I will spank you again if you keep asking for it."

"Here's your pint. Punish yourself with that, for now, and liven up MacAverty. He's turnin' down the sunshine in this place. We can talk later."

"Promises..."

"...Are meant to be broken."

"Yes, yes. My reward for living the good life, eh? Have you seen Nahbi lately?"

"No, but he often comes in here without my noticin' him. Sometimes he studies over in the corner there and leaves without a word."

"I see. Well, I've got to get to the bottom of this, haven't I? Seems the both of you have the cards stacked against me. MacAverty, where's the book?"

"At 'ome."

"Can I get it from you?"

"Aye."

"Give me your keys. That's a good fellow. I'll see you later."

"No you won't."

"What?"

"The book's a murderer."

"MacAverty, I don't know what you're talking about. First, I didn't write that book. And second, even if I did, it's a book, not a person. Books don't kill people."

"You said it, yourself, prof. 'The pen's mightier 'an th'sword.'"

"An expression, man. I'll see you later. Barman, don't let him have another drop."

"Aye, aye, cap'n. Anything else we swabbies can git ye?" She rolled her eyes. One day he'd remember her name, and then...?