Read Online Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 03 by Much Ado in Maggody - Free Book Online
Authors: Much Ado in Maggody
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Nookim?" I asked.
Ruby Bee and Estelle started fidgeting like a pair of toad frogs. The woman glanced at them for a moment, then turned to me and said, "Do you have information concerning her whereabouts at this time?"
"Yep," I said.
There was a long silence. Ruby Bee leaned across the bar to whisper to the woman. After a great deal of hissing, she straightened up and said, "This is Carolyn McCoy-Grunders. She's from WAACO."
"Wacko?" I echoed blankly. "Did you mean to say Waco, as in Texas, or wacko, as in crazy?"
Carolyn gave me a frigid look. "WAACO is the acronym for Women Aligned Against Chauvinism in the Office. We're committed to fighting sexual discrimination and injustice through education, self-awareness, and legal support. Ms. Nookim sent in a letter concerning her treatment by the bank, and I feel there is merit to her accusation."
"I'm impressed you came so quickly," I said, still fighting back a grin. "The legal system grinds exceedingly slow in these matters. I will assist Ms. Nookim in the preparation of a formal complaint for the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, but it takes as long as four months to get any response from them. They are overworked and understaffed, or so they claim. We of WAACO are dedicated to immediate action. We demand the injustice be rectified, and we're willing to do whatever is necessary until our demands are met."
"I hope you're willing to baby-sit," I said. "I still haven't had a chance to talk to Sherman Oliver about dropping the battery charge. If you get Johnna Mae riled up again, she may end up in the county jail. Someone will have to pick up her husband's prescription and drive the baby to the shoestore."
"Sacrifices must be made for the betterment of society," Carolyn said smoothly. "We cannot allow personal inconvenience to cloud our purpose."
"Right," Ruby Bee said, although she didn't sound real happy. "So where is Johnna Mae, Arly? You didn't lock her up, did you?"
"She left the PD a couple of hours ago to walk back to the mobile home park. She's had time to get to Hasty and back by now. In any case, now that I'm no longer a pariah, how about that sandwich?"
Estelle put her hands on her hips. "I swear, all you ever think about is food. If you don't watch out, you're going to end up like Dahlia O'Neill, and then you'll be sorry."
On that bright note, I slid off the stool and went on my merry way, leaving the three of them to fight chauvinism, battle injustice, and make all the personal sacrifices they could think of. I was more interested in chicken noodle soup.
-- ==+== --
Brandon Bernswallow sat at his desk at the bank, his hands clasped behind his neck as he gazed at the ceiling. It was obvious that the embezzlement scheme had been going on for years, and with great success. In truth, he rather admired the way it was operated -- very quietly, very discreetly. No large sums that might attract a bank examiner's attention or alert the IRS. Just lots of small sums juggled like shiny silver balls.
However, he thought with a smug smile, the juggler was having a problem keeping the balls in the air. Nothing had crashed yet, but the possibility was very real, now that he had uncovered the scheme. What to do, what to do. He could, of course, expose the embezzlement and demand the perpetrator be prosecuted unmercifully. Betraying the trust of the community. Depriving honest citizens of their hard-earned money. All that crap. He spent a few pleasant minutes imagining himself being interviewed on television, his expression a delicate combination of outrage at the heinous crime and pain at the idea that a bank employee could betray the institution. His father might be impressed enough to transfer Brandon back to the main bank, where he would have a tastefully decorated office, a new desk, martinis for lunch, and a secretary with enormous tits.
Then again, his father was an asshole who spouted off at every opportunity about working one's way up through the system,
Ruby Bee and Estelle started fidgeting like a pair of toad frogs. The woman glanced at them for a moment, then turned to me and said, "Do you have information concerning her whereabouts at this time?"
"Yep," I said.
There was a long silence. Ruby Bee leaned across the bar to whisper to the woman. After a great deal of hissing, she straightened up and said, "This is Carolyn McCoy-Grunders. She's from WAACO."
"Wacko?" I echoed blankly. "Did you mean to say Waco, as in Texas, or wacko, as in crazy?"
Carolyn gave me a frigid look. "WAACO is the acronym for Women Aligned Against Chauvinism in the Office. We're committed to fighting sexual discrimination and injustice through education, self-awareness, and legal support. Ms. Nookim sent in a letter concerning her treatment by the bank, and I feel there is merit to her accusation."
"I'm impressed you came so quickly," I said, still fighting back a grin. "The legal system grinds exceedingly slow in these matters. I will assist Ms. Nookim in the preparation of a formal complaint for the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, but it takes as long as four months to get any response from them. They are overworked and understaffed, or so they claim. We of WAACO are dedicated to immediate action. We demand the injustice be rectified, and we're willing to do whatever is necessary until our demands are met."
"I hope you're willing to baby-sit," I said. "I still haven't had a chance to talk to Sherman Oliver about dropping the battery charge. If you get Johnna Mae riled up again, she may end up in the county jail. Someone will have to pick up her husband's prescription and drive the baby to the shoestore."
"Sacrifices must be made for the betterment of society," Carolyn said smoothly. "We cannot allow personal inconvenience to cloud our purpose."
"Right," Ruby Bee said, although she didn't sound real happy. "So where is Johnna Mae, Arly? You didn't lock her up, did you?"
"She left the PD a couple of hours ago to walk back to the mobile home park. She's had time to get to Hasty and back by now. In any case, now that I'm no longer a pariah, how about that sandwich?"
Estelle put her hands on her hips. "I swear, all you ever think about is food. If you don't watch out, you're going to end up like Dahlia O'Neill, and then you'll be sorry."
On that bright note, I slid off the stool and went on my merry way, leaving the three of them to fight chauvinism, battle injustice, and make all the personal sacrifices they could think of. I was more interested in chicken noodle soup.
-- ==+== --
Brandon Bernswallow sat at his desk at the bank, his hands clasped behind his neck as he gazed at the ceiling. It was obvious that the embezzlement scheme had been going on for years, and with great success. In truth, he rather admired the way it was operated -- very quietly, very discreetly. No large sums that might attract a bank examiner's attention or alert the IRS. Just lots of small sums juggled like shiny silver balls.
However, he thought with a smug smile, the juggler was having a problem keeping the balls in the air. Nothing had crashed yet, but the possibility was very real, now that he had uncovered the scheme. What to do, what to do. He could, of course, expose the embezzlement and demand the perpetrator be prosecuted unmercifully. Betraying the trust of the community. Depriving honest citizens of their hard-earned money. All that crap. He spent a few pleasant minutes imagining himself being interviewed on television, his expression a delicate combination of outrage at the heinous crime and pain at the idea that a bank employee could betray the institution. His father might be impressed enough to transfer Brandon back to the main bank, where he would have a tastefully decorated office, a new desk, martinis for lunch, and a secretary with enormous tits.
Then again, his father was an asshole who spouted off at every opportunity about working one's way up through the system,
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