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If one of you says a peep about it, the cat’s gone.” Everyone nodded and murmured their understanding. Churchill’s tail curled into a J .
    “We won’t say a word,” said Ruby. And for the first time in the history of the George Bernard Shaw, she was right.

7 The Importance of Being Earnest
    I GOT UP EARLY THE next day and went right to the office. All was pretty much as I’d left it except that Agnes had removed Churchill’s leavings from my desk and the radiator felt as if it had been upped by ten degrees. The radio and I spent the first hour looking for any evidence of Raymond Fielding. When the only things that turned up were “hillbilly music” and the heat, I decided to grab some breakfast.
    Ten minutes later I had a cup of java, a doughnut, and a plan to go back through the files I’d packed. As I returned to the office, I was knocked over by a one-two punch of cheap cologne.
    “Hello?” I called out. Jim’s door stood open, but instead of being filled with the morning’s pale sun, a shadow devoured the light. “Hello?” I followed the shadow to Jim’s window and found a man in a black wool flogger and gray derby. He was as big as a skyscraper and weighed at least as much. He walked toward me until he was close enough for me to make out his Neanderthal-like features.
    I should’ve took to the air, but I hated to waste a perfectly good doughnut. “May I help you?”
    In his hand was a crude metal appliance that I took for a bean-shooter. He squeezed it as though he were readying the device for action. “Where’s the knob for the radiator?” he asked.
    On closer examination, the tool appeared to be a well-worn set of pliers. “Underneath it.”
    He shook his head and admonished me with the pliers. Apparently, having to remove them from his pocket was very inconvenient. “I turned it down. I hate it when a room’s too hot.” The tool was returned to his trench coat with a metallic tinkle that indicated it was one of several implements he carried.
    “Thanks.” I tried to imagine what kind of man regularly toted tools on his person without the benefit of a belt or a box. None of the options were particularly savory.
    His eyes drifted around the office, taking in the crates and stacks of files. “You moving?”
    I decided to play it casual. Isn’t that what you were supposed to do during a bear attack? “I’m putting files into storage to make more space.” I returned to the outer office and set the coffee on my desk. He followed me into the reception area and hovered near the dieffenbachia. Without the light behind him, it was easier to see his puss. He had the soft, doughy features of a college athlete. He would’ve seemed harmless had his face been separated from his imposing body. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name,” I said.
    “That’s ’cause I didn’t give it to you.” He put his hands in his pockets and surveyed the walls and ceiling. “I figured you’d close up the place with Jim gone.”
    I leaned against my desk and tore my doughnut in half. “I guess you figured wrong.”
    He approached Agnes’s desk and sat on its top. His hands left his pockets and rested on his knees. “Damn shame what happened to Jim.” He met my eyes. His were small and close together like a rodent’s. “Seems to me a wise head wouldn’t go leaving her office unlocked after something like that.”
    As menacing as he was trying to be, I found him more irritating than intimidating. Give him a meatloaf and some varicose veins and he could be my ma. “Seems to me a smart man wouldn’t go breaking and entering in broad daylight.”
    He crossed his arms. “It ain’t breaking if the door’s unlocked.” He gave me his profile and recognition flashed through my head.
    “I know you!” I snapped my fingers, trying to place where I’d seen his mug. “Jim’s viewing—you were there with the other goons…er…sorry.”
    If he was insulted, he didn’t show it. “I don’t know