Page 146 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Airtight

“He’s not a very talkative sort, is he?” I realized that the six of
them must have been giving each other haircuts. Or had one of them
been designated the barber, based on talent? Some old paradox from
school days tugged at my consciousness: who, then, would cut the
barber’s hair? Whoever had been working on Blanche betrayed
considerable amateurishness with the shears.
“No, but he’s so gorgeous he doesn’t have to say much, does he?
Anyway, that detective also asked me about our, shall I say,
interpersonal relationships. I didn’t want to mention it when I came
back, because you know how men are: they hate talking about
anything emotional. Of course, they take their own emotions very
seriously.”
“Ah, yes, so they do.” I started taking very seriously the thought of
getting into the bottle in my desk drawer. This would be a golden
opportunity. “Well, I’ve got to go to my office and check my
messages, Blanche. I’ll meet you back in the conference room. This
can’t go on much longer. I’m sure you’re dying to go home and take a
nice long hot bath.”
“You can say that again!” And we parted outside the ladies’ room
door. It was close to six o’clock. I hadn’t really wanted to hear
Blanche’s gossip, juicy though it might have been. None of it would
have surprised me, and that urge for a drink was almost
overpowering. The echo of my heels as I walked quickly down the
hall was sounded like the ticking of a very large clock.

<< 7 >>

When I rejoined the morose assemblage in that stuffy ill-lit room I
felt relatively calm and resolute. My job, after all, was to smooth the
path between Cyborganics and its objectives. In this case, bad
publicity might be minimized by my ability to deliver a measured
response to media questions. If necessary, I would get everyone out
the back way under cover of darkness. Ben probably wouldn’t show
up until the next day, and refuse comment when he got here. So it
was up to me to hold things together. Was I an alcoholic? In
retrospect, I’d have to say the answer is yes.
I brewed another pot of coffee and listened to the sporadic
sputtering expressions of indignation and resignation coming from

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