The Creative Leisure offices were not far from the convenience store, but Bohannon still was muttering to herself as she approached. “One of these damn days I’m gonna go home on time,” she grumbled as she pulled open the door.
A bored-looking young woman looked up from the reception desk. What, was boredom a job requirement at this company? “How may I help you?” the woman said as if she had been saying it every minute, every day, for a thousand years and was cursed to keep saying it for another millenium.
“Yeah, I need to talk to whoever’s in charge,” Bohannon said, pulling her blazer aside to display the badge clipped to her belt. “Is he in?”
“You mean in charge of this office or in charge of the company?” the young woman said sullenly. “Jeff Hamilton’s the local boss, and George Hermann’s the president.”
“Well, I’ve been looking for Hamilton anyway,” Bohannon said. “Let’s start with him.”
“He’s not here,” the receptionist said. “Gone for the day.”
“Got a way to get hold of him?”
The young woman looked as if that was a hard question. “You could try him at home?”
“OK, how about Hermann?”
“His office is on Sirius 4.”
“Terrific,” Bohannon said. “Is anybody here I could talk to about a complaint?”
“No, I’m here alone,” the receptionist admitted. “You could leave a message on Mr. Hamilton’s voice mail,” she added, pointing toward a phone. What the heck, it was the end of the day and she still had no direct evidence Hamilton and Creative Leisure were the source of the trouble. She dialed Hamilton’s extension.
“Hi, this is Jeff,” said a firm but pleasant voice at the other end. “I can’t take your call right now but if you leave your name and number I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Mr. Hamilton, my name is Eddie Bohannon,” she said. “I’m a detective sergeant with the encampment police force. I have some witnesses who think I should arrest you, and I’d really like to get your opinion on that score. Call me back as soon as you can.”
Then she left the office, with a nod to the wide-eyed receptionist. Just to be on the safe side, Bohannon arranged for extra patrols near Snooky’s Tavern, the Betsy Ross and the place where the cargo ship’s crew was staying. It never hurt to be careful.
* * *
The PC-3 Ko-Z Motel wasn’t exactly the height of luxury, but it was comfortable, just as similar establishments had been going back a century or so. A couple of double beds, a place to hang your stuff, a bathroom and shower, and a TV — what more do you need on the road?
This particular establishment offered the option of leasing a video player, and there were few things Pete Wong preferred to curling up with an old movie at the end of a long day, especially after a couple of days where he’d been clubbed and kidnapped and his favorite tavern was bombed, or bazooka’d, or whatever.
“You ever see 'It Happened One Night’?” he asked as Snooky collapsed into the easy chair beside one bed.
She seemed to peer into a catalog of “movies I’ve seen” that had appeared over his shoulder. “I think I’ve seen clips froim it. Is that the really old one where the guy hangs a clothesline between two twin beds?”
“That’s the one.”
“That sounds kind of sexy. You wanna watch that one?”
“Well, for 1934 it’s sexy,” Pete grinned, “but I warn you, you’re not going to see much besides Clark Gable’s chest.”
“It’s a good chest,” Snooky said. “And leaving a little to the imagination never did no one any harm.”
“That’s what I like about these old things, they give you credit for having an imagination,” Pete said.
“You know what I’m imagining?” Snooky said with a sly grin.
“I hope so,” he grinned slyly back.
“Not that, dope,” Snooky said. “Later. I’m just thinking it’d be fun to be a fly on the wall when Bob and that detective lady get alone together.”
“They’d kill each other.”
“Nah, they’re crazy about each other.”
Pete nearly did serious damage to his neck doing another double take. “What, you too? Baxter said the same thing.”
“Baxter’s a smart guy,” she said, “you could learn a thing or two from him.”
“I already have,” he allowed. “But how does Bob almost getting himself arrested translate into mad love?”
“That’s just what it is,” Snooky said. “They’re two of a kind. They just don’t know it yet.”
“I thought I was the one who watches too many old movies,” Pete said.
“You’re kidding, right? Anybody can see the sparks flyin’ between those two a mile off.”
Pete Wong grunted. “I guess I just don’t know how to tell when somebody’s interested in someone else.”
Sometimes conversations never get around to what you want to talk about; in this case, Pete had handed Snooky an opening on the proverbial silver platter.
“You know, I’ve noticed that about you, Pete,” she said, suddenly sounding like something other than a tough bartender. “Here’s a guy who gets an invitation to stay up all night talking and watching movies at a lady’s apartment, and he says up all night, talking and watching movies.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Then she accepts his invitation to come to his place,” Snooky continued as if he hadn’t interrupted, “and he’s all set for more movies.”
“Oh! You had something else in mind,” he said, grinning as though a blindfold was suddenly yanked from over his eyes. She smiled back, put her arms around his neck, and planted one lollapalooza of a kiss on his lips.
“Time for the walls of Jericho to go for a tumble,” she purred when they came up for air. When his hands drifted down toward her hips — the thinnest hips in the galaxy, according to Bob Whelan, you may recall — she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his hips, knowing his hands would be in the right place to support her. What happened next is really and truly none of our business.
Next: There is no next. Next comes an explanation of how this all would have ended.
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