Constance Caraway P.I. ~ Episode 151
…How could such an imperfect creature like Eddie D. not jump at the chance of fame,fortune & immortality? It’s an insult to his craftiness…
Perfect is not the way these fine folks should be looking at things. There remains an interested party to certain things tied to the Libby Affair, which he can currently see or know. Pentateuch is a notoriously bad loser, even though he has an extended stay on Earth to his credit, rather than a permanent Lake of Fire address. Unlike the Divine One, who views a human lifetime as a blink of His eye, the Dark Deceiver treats every moment like it is his last. And that lightning bolt loss he suffered at Tolentine… he cannot let it go.
Even his dabbling in a phony bologna cult like The Church of Spiritual Engineering does not loosen his grip on the satisfaction gained by getting even; a mere toy in the game of tripping up greater mankind, not just this current group of aggravating agitators.
Eddie Dombroski is a known quantity in this storyline, a significant player from Penty’s first contact with that pesky private eye from Florida’s panhandle, which by the way, is a favorite hangout of his oldest and wealthiest sinners. He has kept an evil eye on Dombroski, especially since Eddie turned down the opportunity to trade his eternal soul for a king’s life of fame and fortune. How could such an imperfect creature not jump at that chance? It’s an insult to his craftiness.
As is Penty’s want, a daily check on this (f)ailing soul (Eddie) can only be a good thing, to his way of thinking. He might even have the chance to swoop in a snag that soul for the promise of one or ten more years of life. OR catch a whiff of who might still be in contact with the former chauffeur to the Libbyites.
He ponders, like demons ponder: ‘For one, Constance Caraway is a constant, like the proverbial pestilences of Egypt. She seems plagued by guilt, such a uniquely human emotion, though in this case, it has spawned another condition named, loyalty.
‘This Ace Bannion is a curious addition to this malevolent mix. And whatever happened to that empty-headed female twit of a sidekick? She was so fun to tweak, so predictable. But this Ace, a walking ego an two feet, is unpredictable with an historic heroic bent. He warrants my special concern.
‘And what of this Billy Graham? You must be kidding me! I thought he was going to just another flash in the pan, bible-stumping, do-gooder. What interest could he have with a dying commoner like Eddie? What is a national figure like him doing here?’
When things don’t add up, or when he can’t skew the numbers, it bothers him to no end.