enthusiasm.
"I've just
got a lot of stuff to do."
"Like
what?"
I told her.
Beneath the clatter of the static, I could hear her rich laughter. "This
I've got to see," she said when I'd finished.
"I'm
meeting them in front of the Rainier Club at four. I could use some help."
"Like what?" I told her what I wanted.
"Do you
have any idea how hard it was for me to find someone to cut my hair?"
"It's
right in the neighborhood. We can all walk."
"He'll
shit."
"I'll pay
the going rate and tip twenty-five percent."" I heard her chuckle
again. "I'll give him a call." "See you at four." "All
right."
"We'll go
up to see the house when we're done." ''Mmmm," she said and hung up.
I dialed Karen
and sat through a lovely Lennon Sisters a cappella rendition of "Let Me
Call You Sweetheart" before she finally hit the line.
"You
always did know how to pick 'em, Leo."
"How's
that?" . "Have you seen today's Post Intelligencer?"
"No."
"Well,
when you get a chance, treat yourself to page three of Section D. It's a
full-page ad. Your friend Jack Del Fuego." "Oh, no."
"You have
no idea what's been going on around here." "Tell me."
"Less than
an hour after I spoke to you, in walks the mayor's monkey."
"Harlan
the Hatchet was in your office?" "I've still got the windows
open." "What'd he want?"
"Harlan
tells me to find something, anything, to stop Mr. Del Fuego's cookout on Friday
night. He doesn't care how I do it, just do it, he says. Not a 'howdy' or a
'please.' Just do it, and he's gone."
"Harlan
was the first successful recipient of the charisma-bypass procedure."
"You ain't
just whistling Dixie," she said. "So I'm still stomping around the
office an hour later when he comes strolling back in, with that stupid grin of
his plastered all over his face."
"The one
where he looks like a sheep?"
"The very
same."
"Lucky
you."
"Oh, yeah.
And guess what?" "What?"
"A
complete reversal. The barbecue is to go off on schedule. The mayor and his
wife will be in attendance, as will be Mr. and Mrs. Chief of Police and so on
down the line. SPD will provide any extra needed security. I am to resist any
and all pressure. Bingo. He's gone."
"What
pressure would you need to resist?"
"Ah, Leo.
You think like a true Waterman. I wondered the same thing, so I called Mary
Beth Erdman."
"Remind
me, who's that?"
"Your
uncle Pat's second wife. She's in Finance." "And?"
"Seems the
mayor got a call this morning from an animal rights group demanding he put a
stop to the cookout."
"Did he
faint and wet himself?" That’s just the sort of PC pressure that usually
gets old Norm to soiling his briefs.
"No. Quite
the contrary."
God, how this
woman treasured a good secret. I waited. "So guess who heads this
particular group?" 'Til bite. Who?" "Clarissa Hedgpeth."
"That
weepy woman with the white poodle? Meat Is Murder and all that crap?" As
far as I was concerned, the only people entitled to complain about animal
rights were barefoot, vegetarian nudists. The rest of us were guilty. Such is
life in the food chain.
"That's
the one," Karen said.
"Isn't she
the one who—"
"Yep, the
same one who threw a quart of blood on the mayor's wife during one of those
anti-fur demonstrations. Outside The Opera House a couple of years ago, when he
was just a councilman."
"Mink, as
I remember."
"Blond
mink and uninsured, I'm told."
"And you
know how cheap that man is, too," I said.
We shared an
"Ooooh."
"So His Honor
has decided that the shindig is going to go on, no matter what," she said.
"I'm not
going to get any help from you, am I?" "No can do, kiddo."
"Thanks anyway, Karen."
"So . . .
you're moving into the old house," she said before I could break the connection.
"Let me guess. Mallreen again."
"No,
Ruthie told me," she said, naming a cousin so distant I was unable to
bring any image of her whatsoever to mind.
I may have
growled before I hung up; I can't be sure. Either way, I carefully replaced the
receiver and went out to meet the
"I've just
got a lot of stuff to do."
"Like
what?"
I told her.
Beneath the clatter of the static, I could hear her rich laughter. "This
I've got to see," she said when I'd finished.
"I'm
meeting them in front of the Rainier Club at four. I could use some help."
"Like what?" I told her what I wanted.
"Do you
have any idea how hard it was for me to find someone to cut my hair?"
"It's
right in the neighborhood. We can all walk."
"He'll
shit."
"I'll pay
the going rate and tip twenty-five percent."" I heard her chuckle
again. "I'll give him a call." "See you at four." "All
right."
"We'll go
up to see the house when we're done." ''Mmmm," she said and hung up.
I dialed Karen
and sat through a lovely Lennon Sisters a cappella rendition of "Let Me
Call You Sweetheart" before she finally hit the line.
"You
always did know how to pick 'em, Leo."
"How's
that?" . "Have you seen today's Post Intelligencer?"
"No."
"Well,
when you get a chance, treat yourself to page three of Section D. It's a
full-page ad. Your friend Jack Del Fuego." "Oh, no."
"You have
no idea what's been going on around here." "Tell me."
"Less than
an hour after I spoke to you, in walks the mayor's monkey."
"Harlan
the Hatchet was in your office?" "I've still got the windows
open." "What'd he want?"
"Harlan
tells me to find something, anything, to stop Mr. Del Fuego's cookout on Friday
night. He doesn't care how I do it, just do it, he says. Not a 'howdy' or a
'please.' Just do it, and he's gone."
"Harlan
was the first successful recipient of the charisma-bypass procedure."
"You ain't
just whistling Dixie," she said. "So I'm still stomping around the
office an hour later when he comes strolling back in, with that stupid grin of
his plastered all over his face."
"The one
where he looks like a sheep?"
"The very
same."
"Lucky
you."
"Oh, yeah.
And guess what?" "What?"
"A
complete reversal. The barbecue is to go off on schedule. The mayor and his
wife will be in attendance, as will be Mr. and Mrs. Chief of Police and so on
down the line. SPD will provide any extra needed security. I am to resist any
and all pressure. Bingo. He's gone."
"What
pressure would you need to resist?"
"Ah, Leo.
You think like a true Waterman. I wondered the same thing, so I called Mary
Beth Erdman."
"Remind
me, who's that?"
"Your
uncle Pat's second wife. She's in Finance." "And?"
"Seems the
mayor got a call this morning from an animal rights group demanding he put a
stop to the cookout."
"Did he
faint and wet himself?" That’s just the sort of PC pressure that usually
gets old Norm to soiling his briefs.
"No. Quite
the contrary."
God, how this
woman treasured a good secret. I waited. "So guess who heads this
particular group?" 'Til bite. Who?" "Clarissa Hedgpeth."
"That
weepy woman with the white poodle? Meat Is Murder and all that crap?" As
far as I was concerned, the only people entitled to complain about animal
rights were barefoot, vegetarian nudists. The rest of us were guilty. Such is
life in the food chain.
"That's
the one," Karen said.
"Isn't she
the one who—"
"Yep, the
same one who threw a quart of blood on the mayor's wife during one of those
anti-fur demonstrations. Outside The Opera House a couple of years ago, when he
was just a councilman."
"Mink, as
I remember."
"Blond
mink and uninsured, I'm told."
"And you
know how cheap that man is, too," I said.
We shared an
"Ooooh."
"So His Honor
has decided that the shindig is going to go on, no matter what," she said.
"I'm not
going to get any help from you, am I?" "No can do, kiddo."
"Thanks anyway, Karen."
"So . . .
you're moving into the old house," she said before I could break the connection.
"Let me guess. Mallreen again."
"No,
Ruthie told me," she said, naming a cousin so distant I was unable to
bring any image of her whatsoever to mind.
I may have
growled before I hung up; I can't be sure. Either way, I carefully replaced the
receiver and went out to meet the
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