Read Online Son of Fletch by Gregory McDonald - Free Book Online Page B

had charm and temper and the gift of gab that would draw admissions from a judge. They loved and hated each other with passion.
    News, in those days, was ninety-five percent fact, three percent fancy, and two percent speculation.
    As extrapolation had not yet entered the business, news, in those days, was far less confusing.
    When Fletch would call Global Cable News with a bit of information,
news
, suggestion, comment, a question, he was answered with
Yes, Mister Fletcher. Yes, Mister Fletcher. Yes, Mister Fletcher
, instant response, thorough follow-through. It made him as uncomfortable as their headquarters. He did not like being listened to as a journalist because he was a major investor.
    So he asked that when he called, only one person answer and say,
Yes, Mister Fletcher
.
    That person was Andy Cyst.
    “Yes, Mister Fletcher?”
    “Andy, I need some information. First, I need to find a woman named Crystal Faoni.” He spelled the name out. “She used to be a working journalist. I believe she never married. I believe she has one son, named John, which she has raised herself. I’m told she now owns five radio stations in Indiana. Possibly with a residence in Bloomington. Presently, she may be at a health spa, I’m told
incommunicado
, somewhere.”
    “F-A-O-N-I?”
    “Yes.”
    “An unusual name.”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “An old flame, eh?” Andy asked.
    “An old spark, more like.”
    “Why do you need me? You have enough information here—”
    “Because I am limited in what I can do at this moment.” He hoped Andy was saying to himself,
The old boy’s gettin’ lazy
. “Also, I think I would like to see, or at least talk to, Faoni within the next few days. Where exactly is she? What’s her schedule? How serious is this
incommunicado
situation? When you find her.”
    “Okay.”
    “Next, some convicts escaped from the federal penitentiary in Tomaston, Kentucky, yesterday.”
    “Yes. Two.”
    “Two?”
    “I’m trying to recall what I saw regarding this story on Global Cable News. We’ve carried the full story, needless to say.”
    “Andy, you know I don’t get cable here on the farm.”
    “I know.”
    “Cable was originally intended for rural areas. Then your business chiefs discovered dwellings in the cities and towns are closer together, and therefore much more profitable to wire. So we still don’t get cable out here.”
    “You’ve mentioned this to me before.”
    “About a thousand times.”
    “Thirteen hundred and five times. You’re the one who makes the profits, Mister Fletcher.”
    “Go ahead. Rub it in. I just want you all to know why I am not a devoted viewer. Why I do not memorize your every shifting probability. Furthermore, I understand there are four escapees.” To himself, Fletch said,
Now there are three
. “I need to know everything about every one of them.”
    “Are you working on something, Mister Fletcher? I mean, for GCN?”
    “Just maybe.”
    “You want a crew?”
    “No. Not yet, anyway. Was anyone hurt during the escape?”
    “Ummm. I think not. You want me to boot up my personal computer to read the office files?”
    “No. I haven’t the time right now. I have another call to make.”
    “Sorry, I guess I didn’t pay that much attention to this story. Last night we, uh—”
    Fletch waited. “Are you going to tell me?”
    “Went to a concert, in old D.C.”
    “So you had a late night.”
    “You know what was weird?”
    “Tell me.” In the smokehouse, Fletch glanced at his watch.
    “The first half of the concert was big band, you know, like in the 1940s? The second half a rock light show. Like in the sixties, I guess.”
    “Eclectic,” Fletch said.
    “It’s left me confused. Headachy.”
    One of many things Fletch admired about Andy was his respect for straight lines. “Go with the flow, baby.”
    “Anything else? I’m leaving for the office now.”
    “What’s The Tribe?”
    “Whose?”
    “I guess that’s the right