Читать книгу Small Town Monsters - Craig Nybo - Страница 31

Small Town Monsters

3

Chapter 7

Chapel-bowl Lanes smelled like a carnival house ashtray. The regulars staggered in nightly with matching league uniforms and leather bowling bags. The owner of the place was a spindly hawk-nosed codger named Dallas. To the recollection of his friends, Dallas had no middle or last name; he was simply Dallas and that was that. He stood behind a thick glass countertop. He kept himself busy amid the crackle of toppling pins and the chatter of half-drunk fools with tattoos scribed in bleeding blue on their alligator-skinned forearms and shoulders. Dallas’s job, aside from being the proprietor of Chapel Bowl, was to polish and repair worn bowling balls. For a nominal fee, Dallas could buff this scratch out or fill that ding; he could make any ball as good as new. It wasn’t that he took pride in his work; acting as ball doctor paid enough to keep the buzzing lights on in the place and to call in an occasional maintenance man from Butte to take care of the bigger problems that regularly came up in the machinery of a bowling alley.

It was Wednesday. Kurt showed up dutifully at eight o’clock P.M. He wore his blue, button up league jersey with a wide stripe over the right shoulder. He greeted Buck, Larry, and Arthur, the other members of his team, who came with

Concerning:

Dallas

Kurt McCammus

Larry Uriarte

Buck Trudeau

Arthur Andrus

Bill Chatwin

Ray Preston

Phil Wadsworth

Gerald Plumm