Remorseless? Not a bit of
it, no matter what they say!
Here's the genuine, inside,
light-hearted story of——
DEATH AND TAXES
by H. A. HARTZELL
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"It's a crime, Your Honor," said the young man with the dreamy eyes andpaint-smeared sport-shirt. "The Council not only proposes tearing downthis picturesque landmark, but would thereby destroy the home of ouronly local ghost."
"Really, Mr. Masterson!" The mayor smiled to show he knew JerryMasterson was only kidding, then brandished a State Highway Commissionreport recommending that the antiquated Waukeena Lighthouse bedemolished. "Mr. Masterson, we respect your feelings as an artist,and are well aware of the local superstition regarding the ghost ofCaptain MacGreggor, but this building is over seventy years old andneeds expensive repairs. The financial burden is too great for ourmetropolis of less than fifteen hundred souls. The State has disavowedresponsibility, and—"
"Your Honor!"
"The chair recognizes Mr. Higgins."
"As president of the Historical Society, I wish to state we vigorouslyoppose the wrecking of this building. One by one, our landmarks havefallen. Are we to hand down to our children a community without prideof ancestry? Are we—?"
"Your Honor," bellowed another voice. "As a member of the TaxpayersLeague...."
For two hours, sentiment battled hotly with double-entry bookkeeping.Then the City Council expressed its deep regrets to the HistoricalSociety—and unanimously accepted the bid of Sam Schultz SalvageCompany. Mr. Schultz handed the Council his check for five hundreddollars and was authorized to begin wrecking immediately.
"First thing tomorrow morning," Mr. Schultz promised.
Tomorrow morning! As he walked into the spring night, toward the old,decaying house where he lived alone, Jerry Masterson felt sadness. Hisown difficulties had prepared him to admit life was geared to financialconsiderations. But things had come to a pretty pass when even a ghostwas not safe from dollars and cents. "Poor Captain Wully," he saidwithout realizing he spoke aloud.
"Aye, aye," said a voice. "Poor Wully MacGreggor. As a ghost ingood standing, a dues-paying member of Asmodeus Local of the UnitedLighthouse Haunters of America, Wully never done nothin' to deservethis. Evicted! Got a smoke, matey?"
Jerry Masterson did a double-take. Out of reflex courtesy, he proffereda cigarette and was about to strike a match when his companion reachedslightly to the left, where several coals glowed in mid-air. Selectingone, the stranger said, "Thank you, Junior. You can go now." He turned,lit Jerry's cigarette and his own.
"All right, joker," said Jerry. "Show me how you did it and I'll showyou a couple of card tricks and a disappearing penny routine."
"Later," said the stranger. "Right now, matey, my sails is draggin' andI need spiritual reinforcement—liquid. And you're buying."
"There's a fifth of Scotch in my studio, but I'm not pouring for anyphony tricksters. I've been saving it till I sold a canvas."
"Scotch," sighed the stranger ecstatically. "Shades of the Loch NessMonster! Quit scratching, Gertrude."
"Gertrude?"
"My cat—she's black. A handsome beastie if you overlook a hole in herhead. A twenty-two caliber hole. Gertrude, materialize for the ni