of dust, as if he’d recently driven through a jobsite. Lee dumped her load on the back seat of the Pinto, then straightened and studied Floyd’s dusty status symbol. Imbedded in the glass of the opera window—still intact—was the illustrious but now lusterless diamond.
With a sardonic smile Lee leaned over, breathed on it, lifted an elbow, and polished it carefully. She stepped back to survey it critically, nodded once, then clambered into her Pinto and drove away.
B UT her cocky attitude had totally disappeared when, three days later, she’d turned up absolutely nothing resembling a job opening. As she paced the floor, she told herself she’d done the only thing possible. She was reviewing the miles she’d put on both her car and her feet during the past three days when her phone rang. Picking it up from the kitchen counter, the Honorable Sam Brown’s was the last voice on earth she expected at the other end of the line.
“Who the hell are you trying to hide from?” he said without preamble.
“What?”
“I’ve been trying to get your damn phone number for three days!”
“And just who might this be?” she queried with undisguised sugar in every syllable.
“This, my little Indian, is the Honorable Sam Brown speaking. Just why in hell aren’t you listed in the phone book?”
“Because I’m divorced and I don’t want any obscene phone calls. And why didn’t you just call Thorpe Construction for my number?”
“I did, but it seems Fat Floyd developed a conscience—belatedly, I might add—and declined to give out confidential information.”
“Why that fat rat!”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“So how did you get it?”
“I spent sixty-five bucks taking out a dumb redhead and buying her dinner, then plying her with a German wine because she works for Ma Bell.”
Lee was dumbfounded. “You whaaaat? ”
“And all she was good for at the end of the evening was a chaste good night kiss.” He chuckled wickedly.
“I told you, Brown, I don’t accept obscene phone calls.”
“Too bad, cause the redhead finally gave over—your phone number, of course.”
“Brown, you scheming weasel, are you saying you bribed the girl to get my unlisted number?”
“Call it what you will . . . I got it, didn’t I?”
“For what?”
“I heard Fat Floyd gave you the ax.”
“Well, you heard wrong. I quit.”
“Bully for you. Have you got another job yet?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been beatin’ feet from one end of this town to the other, but it’s hopeless.”
“Listen, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“I’ll just bet you do, but I’m not that desperate yet. If it’s the same one you offered the redhead on her doorstep, keep it.”
“You’re the most suspicious woman I ever paid sixty-five dollars for, you know that?”
“And I’ll bet there’ve been plenty, right?”
“Quit your goading, Cherokee, this is legitimate business. I’d like to talk to you about coming to work for me.”
“You wh—”
“But I won’t discuss it on the phone. I never carry out an interview by phone, only face to face. Are you busy tomorrow night?”
“Brown, you’re crazy!”
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m busy all day tomorrow, including lunch, or we could get together then. But I’ll be free by—oh, say, four thirty. Why don’t we meet someplace for cocktails and discuss it then?”
“Brown, I can’t come to work for you. It’d be like jumping from the pot into the fire!”
“Listen, I’d like to stay and listen to all this sweet talk, but I’m on the run as it is. Meet me at fifty-three oh-one State Line Road and we’ll discuss it sensibly. Fifty-three oh-one State Line . . . got that?”
“Sam Brown, I don’t trust you. What makes you think—”
But he’d done it again.
“Brown? . . . Brown, come back here!”
He’d left her with a dead receiver, and before the address escaped Lee’s head, she was scrambling for a pencil.
Chapter
With a sardonic smile Lee leaned over, breathed on it, lifted an elbow, and polished it carefully. She stepped back to survey it critically, nodded once, then clambered into her Pinto and drove away.
B UT her cocky attitude had totally disappeared when, three days later, she’d turned up absolutely nothing resembling a job opening. As she paced the floor, she told herself she’d done the only thing possible. She was reviewing the miles she’d put on both her car and her feet during the past three days when her phone rang. Picking it up from the kitchen counter, the Honorable Sam Brown’s was the last voice on earth she expected at the other end of the line.
“Who the hell are you trying to hide from?” he said without preamble.
“What?”
“I’ve been trying to get your damn phone number for three days!”
“And just who might this be?” she queried with undisguised sugar in every syllable.
“This, my little Indian, is the Honorable Sam Brown speaking. Just why in hell aren’t you listed in the phone book?”
“Because I’m divorced and I don’t want any obscene phone calls. And why didn’t you just call Thorpe Construction for my number?”
“I did, but it seems Fat Floyd developed a conscience—belatedly, I might add—and declined to give out confidential information.”
“Why that fat rat!”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“So how did you get it?”
“I spent sixty-five bucks taking out a dumb redhead and buying her dinner, then plying her with a German wine because she works for Ma Bell.”
Lee was dumbfounded. “You whaaaat? ”
“And all she was good for at the end of the evening was a chaste good night kiss.” He chuckled wickedly.
“I told you, Brown, I don’t accept obscene phone calls.”
“Too bad, cause the redhead finally gave over—your phone number, of course.”
“Brown, you scheming weasel, are you saying you bribed the girl to get my unlisted number?”
“Call it what you will . . . I got it, didn’t I?”
“For what?”
“I heard Fat Floyd gave you the ax.”
“Well, you heard wrong. I quit.”
“Bully for you. Have you got another job yet?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been beatin’ feet from one end of this town to the other, but it’s hopeless.”
“Listen, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“I’ll just bet you do, but I’m not that desperate yet. If it’s the same one you offered the redhead on her doorstep, keep it.”
“You’re the most suspicious woman I ever paid sixty-five dollars for, you know that?”
“And I’ll bet there’ve been plenty, right?”
“Quit your goading, Cherokee, this is legitimate business. I’d like to talk to you about coming to work for me.”
“You wh—”
“But I won’t discuss it on the phone. I never carry out an interview by phone, only face to face. Are you busy tomorrow night?”
“Brown, you’re crazy!”
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m busy all day tomorrow, including lunch, or we could get together then. But I’ll be free by—oh, say, four thirty. Why don’t we meet someplace for cocktails and discuss it then?”
“Brown, I can’t come to work for you. It’d be like jumping from the pot into the fire!”
“Listen, I’d like to stay and listen to all this sweet talk, but I’m on the run as it is. Meet me at fifty-three oh-one State Line Road and we’ll discuss it sensibly. Fifty-three oh-one State Line . . . got that?”
“Sam Brown, I don’t trust you. What makes you think—”
But he’d done it again.
“Brown? . . . Brown, come back here!”
He’d left her with a dead receiver, and before the address escaped Lee’s head, she was scrambling for a pencil.
Chapter
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