Excerpt of Monster by Jonathan Kellerman
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The giant knew Richard Nixon.
Towering, yellow-haired, grizzled, a listing mountain in khaki twill, he limped
closer, and Milo tightened up. I looked to Frank Dollard for a cue. Dollard
appeared untroubled, meaty arms at his sides, mouth serene under the tobaccoed
gray mustache. His eyes were slits, but they'd been that way at the main gate.
The giant belched out a bass laugh and brushed greasy hair away from his eyes.
His beard was a corn-colored ruin. I could smell him now, vinegarish, hormonally
charged. He had to be six- eight, three hundred. The shadow he threw on the dirt
was ash-colored, amoebic, broad enough to shade us.
He took another lurching step, and this time Frank Dollard's right arm shot out.
The huge man didn't seem to notice, just stood there with Dollard's limb flung
across his waist. Maybe a dozen other men in khaki were out on the yard, most of
them standing still, a few others pacing, rocking, faces pressed against the
chain link. No groups that I could see; everyone to himself. Above them, the sky
was an untrammeled blue, clouds broiled away by a vengeful sun. I was cooking in
The giant's face was dry. He sighed, dropped his shoulders, and Dollard lowered
his arm. The giant made a finger gun, pointed it at us, and laughed. His eyes
were dark brown, pinched at the corners, the whites too sallow for health.
"Secret service." He thumped his chest. "Victoria's Secret service in
the closet underwear undercover always lookin' out for the guy good old Nixon
RMN Rimmin, always rimmin wanting to be rimmed he liked to talk the walk cuttin
outta the White House night house doing the party thing all hours with Kurt
Vonnegut , J. D. Salinger the Glass family anyone who didn't mind the politics
heat of the kitchen. I wrote Cat's Cradle sold it to Vonnegut for ten bucks.
Billy Bathgate typed the manuscript one time he walked out the front door got
all the way to Las Vegas big hassle with the Hell's Angels over some dollar
slots Vonnegut wanting to change the national debt Rimmin agreed the Angels got
pissed we had to pull him out of it me and Kurt Vonnegut Salinger wasn't there
Doctorow was sewing the Cat's Cradle they were bad cats, woulda assassinated him
any day of the week leeway the oswald harvey."
He bent and lifted his left trouser leg. Below the knee was bone sheathed with
glossy white scar tissue, most of the calf meat ripped away. An organic peg leg.
"Got shot protecting old Rimmin," he said, letting go of the fabric. "He died
anyway poor Richard no almanac know what happened rimmed too hard I couldn't
"Chet," said Dollard, stretching to pat the giant's shoulder.
The giant shuddered. Little cherries of muscle rolled along Milo's jawline. His
hand was where his gun would have been if he hadn't checked it at the gate.
Dollard said, "Gonna make it to the TV room today, Chet?"
The giant swayed a bit. "Ahh . . ."
"I think you should make it to the TV room, Chet. There's gonna be a movie on
democracy. We're gonna sing 'The Star-Spangled Banner,' could use someone with a
"Yeah, Pavarotti," said the giant, suddenly cheerful. "He and Domingo were at
Caesars Palace they didn't like the way it worked out Rimmin not doing his voice
exercises lee lee lee lo lo lo no egg yolk to smooth the trachea it pissed
Pavarotti off he didn't want to run for public office."
"Yeah, sure," said Dollard. He winked at Milo and me.
The giant had turned his back on all three of us and was staring down on the
bare tan table of the yard. A short, thick, dark-haired man had pulled down his
pants and was urinating in the dirt, setting off a tiny dust storm. None of the
other men in khaki seemed to notice. The giant's face had gone stony.
Excerpted from Monster by Jonathan Kellerman. Copyright© 1999 by Jonathan Kellerman. Excerpted by permission of Random House, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.