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Authors: Steve Martini
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the hiss of a speaker phone. Anybody in earshot at the other end can now hear our conversation.
"Susan. Paul here. Can you pick up the receiver?" I've dialed around her secretary to a direct line in her office.
The hiss goes away as she picks up the receiver.
"You caught me at a bad time." I can now hear her voice clearly.
"I'm in a staff meeting. We're pretty busy." I can see the picture: a half dozen drones huddled around her desk taking notes as Susan micromanages their divisions. My woman is a control freak.
"No. I'm afraid it can't wait," I tell her.
"What's wrong?" Susan's good at detecting problems from the tone in a voice. "Where are you?"
"On the road. About to head onto the freeway. So we won't be able to talk for long." The wind at high speed makes it impossible to hear in the open vehicle.
"I just came out of a meeting with your friend Suade."
"I take it she wasn't helpful?"
"Like a viper in your jockey shorts."
"I did warn you," she says.
"Don't remind me."
"Listen, Paul, I really am busy. Can't it wait till tonight?"
"Unfortunately, it can't. She's getting ready to stick a pike in Jonah."
No last names. Not on an open cell phone.
"How so?"
"Suade's making wild charges, accusations that he molested the child.
Had relations with his own daughter."
"That sounds like ..." She almost says Suade's name, then remembers she's not alone in her office. "Our friend," she says. "If you remember, I warned you not to get involved."
"I know. But it's too late for that now. I can't leave Jonah twisting in the wind."
"The question is, what can you do for him?" When I don't respond, she allows my silence to provide the answer.
"Cut your losses," she says. "You can't fight her. She plays by a set of rules that were never provided in your book. Believe me.
You don't know what you're up against. She's got a machine, and it's well oiled." Her voice goes down a full octave, and from the sound I can tell she's cupped a hand over the mouthpiece so no one else in her office can hear.
"She can lay down lies the way a paving machine does asphalt," says Susan. "Reputations don't mean a thing. Not Jonah's. Not yours. Trust me. You get in her way, you're going to find yourself on your back, covered with tar wondering what it was that rolled over you. I really would like to help." Susan can be hard-nosed. Suddenly her voice is back to pitch, up to volume. "But I'm in the middle of a meeting. We'll just have to discuss it tonight."
"There is something else," I tell her.
"What?" "She said some things about your department. She mentioned you by name." There's silence on the phone, as if someone's dropped an anvil on her. I wonder if I've lost the connection, or if she's hung up.
"You there?" I ask.
"I'm here." Her voice is back in the nether regions. I can visualize the high back other executive leather chair being swiveled so that it faces the drones across her desk. Makeshift privacy. "What did she say?" she asks.
"Took your name in vain," I tell her.
"You didn't mention me?"
"Never. But it did make me wonder if she was mind-reading."
"I'll bet." For a moment I'm left to ponder whether Susan believes me.
"What exactly did she say about me?"
"Called you "Judas." She thinks your department's sold out to the honky male establishment. She seems to think the county's been covering up crimes in custody cases, selling favoritism. She's making vague claims about scandals. Wouldn't tell me the details. I've got the press release with me if you want to see it."
"Press release?"
"She's sending it out today. As we speak." There's silence while she thinks. At this moment, I can tell Susan would like to suppress free speech. "What does it say, this press release?"
"I can't read while I'm driving," I tell her. "But it's heavy on accusations, light on the details. Says she's holding those for the press conference in two days." More rubber burning on Susan's end, silence as she thinks. I hear some conversations, distant
"Susan. Paul here. Can you pick up the receiver?" I've dialed around her secretary to a direct line in her office.
The hiss goes away as she picks up the receiver.
"You caught me at a bad time." I can now hear her voice clearly.
"I'm in a staff meeting. We're pretty busy." I can see the picture: a half dozen drones huddled around her desk taking notes as Susan micromanages their divisions. My woman is a control freak.
"No. I'm afraid it can't wait," I tell her.
"What's wrong?" Susan's good at detecting problems from the tone in a voice. "Where are you?"
"On the road. About to head onto the freeway. So we won't be able to talk for long." The wind at high speed makes it impossible to hear in the open vehicle.
"I just came out of a meeting with your friend Suade."
"I take it she wasn't helpful?"
"Like a viper in your jockey shorts."
"I did warn you," she says.
"Don't remind me."
"Listen, Paul, I really am busy. Can't it wait till tonight?"
"Unfortunately, it can't. She's getting ready to stick a pike in Jonah."
No last names. Not on an open cell phone.
"How so?"
"Suade's making wild charges, accusations that he molested the child.
Had relations with his own daughter."
"That sounds like ..." She almost says Suade's name, then remembers she's not alone in her office. "Our friend," she says. "If you remember, I warned you not to get involved."
"I know. But it's too late for that now. I can't leave Jonah twisting in the wind."
"The question is, what can you do for him?" When I don't respond, she allows my silence to provide the answer.
"Cut your losses," she says. "You can't fight her. She plays by a set of rules that were never provided in your book. Believe me.
You don't know what you're up against. She's got a machine, and it's well oiled." Her voice goes down a full octave, and from the sound I can tell she's cupped a hand over the mouthpiece so no one else in her office can hear.
"She can lay down lies the way a paving machine does asphalt," says Susan. "Reputations don't mean a thing. Not Jonah's. Not yours. Trust me. You get in her way, you're going to find yourself on your back, covered with tar wondering what it was that rolled over you. I really would like to help." Susan can be hard-nosed. Suddenly her voice is back to pitch, up to volume. "But I'm in the middle of a meeting. We'll just have to discuss it tonight."
"There is something else," I tell her.
"What?" "She said some things about your department. She mentioned you by name." There's silence on the phone, as if someone's dropped an anvil on her. I wonder if I've lost the connection, or if she's hung up.
"You there?" I ask.
"I'm here." Her voice is back in the nether regions. I can visualize the high back other executive leather chair being swiveled so that it faces the drones across her desk. Makeshift privacy. "What did she say?" she asks.
"Took your name in vain," I tell her.
"You didn't mention me?"
"Never. But it did make me wonder if she was mind-reading."
"I'll bet." For a moment I'm left to ponder whether Susan believes me.
"What exactly did she say about me?"
"Called you "Judas." She thinks your department's sold out to the honky male establishment. She seems to think the county's been covering up crimes in custody cases, selling favoritism. She's making vague claims about scandals. Wouldn't tell me the details. I've got the press release with me if you want to see it."
"Press release?"
"She's sending it out today. As we speak." There's silence while she thinks. At this moment, I can tell Susan would like to suppress free speech. "What does it say, this press release?"
"I can't read while I'm driving," I tell her. "But it's heavy on accusations, light on the details. Says she's holding those for the press conference in two days." More rubber burning on Susan's end, silence as she thinks. I hear some conversations, distant
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