much.”
“You’re performing a valuable service for the community,” I said, trying to keep from biting my tongue.
Mr. Hoffman beamed again. He did have a nice smile. “We believe so. By the end of the 20th century, families had been rent asunder by the temptations of modern life. Our group is trying to promote family values before the human race spirals downward to catastrophe. If we don’t save the family unit at the beginning of the 21 st century, we won’t be around for the end of the century.”
“So you think that keeping men out of the strip clubs and home in the bosom of their families is part of the solution.” I was beginning to talk like he did.
“That is where I am concentrating my efforts. The first step is to gather the license plate numbers. Then we can find the owners of the cars and contact their families and friends. We also urge the men who frequent these bastions of sin to seek professional counseling.”
A family portrait stood on the table beside the sofa where I sat. The three people in the picture were Mr. Hoffman, a woman who must be his wife and a girl, perhaps teenage. “I take it you have a daughter,” I said.
“Yes, a wonderful girl. She is the pride of my life.”
“What would you do if a boy came to date your daughter and he had been to a strip club?”
Tess, sitting beside me on the sofa, made a sudden movement. I glanced at her and saw that she was desperately trying to keep from what—laughing?
Mr. Hoffman’s expression darkened as he scowled. He said, “If a young man came here to see my daughter and told me he had been to a strip club he had better run fast in a zigzag manner.”
“I have a question for you about your patrol Monday night,” I said, quickly. “When you were at Club Cavalier did you happen to see a young lady dressed in a jacket with a hood and wearing a mask come out the back door and get in a car?”
Mr. Hoffman looked at me in a funny way so I continued, “You’re trying to save the patrons. Our organization is trying to save the dancers. This particular dancer always wears a mask and we’re not sure who she is.”
“Oh. No, I can’t say I did. What time would that have been?”
“Around 8:15. And again at about 10:15.”
“We didn’t arrive there until almost 8:30. And later we were covering other clubs. They are usually the most crowded between 8:30 and 10:30 on weekdays.”
“Well, you might have recorded the license plate of the car, anyway. You said you find out who owns the cars. She could be a student. Did any of the cars belong to students at Crescent Heights, do you know, possibly a female student?”
“None belonged to female students. I believe a couple of the owners had dormitory addresses. Of course, it’s possible that other cars might belong to students living in apartments or to their parents. But I’d be glad to give you the information on the ones I’m sure of.”
“We would appreciate that.” Maybe she was being chauffeured by a male student. Take what you can get.
“Would you like some coffee now?”
I accepted, eagerly, Tess with less enthusiasm. I felt I had earned some coffee, although I almost regretted accepting when I saw what a struggle Mr. Hoffman had getting up from his chair.
While he was in the kitchen I picked up the framed picture from the end table and looked at it more closely. I sucked in my breath sharply and Tess said, “Lillian, what’s the matter?”
“This girl—Mr. Hoffman’s daughter,” I said, trying to keep my voice down but in danger of hyperventilating at the same time. “She’s the one who accused Mark of sexual harassment.”
“Are you sure?”
“Almost positive. She has the same dark hair. Same eyes. But she’s smiling in the picture and I haven’t seen her smile.”
Mr. Hoffman limped back into the room and said, “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes. And I’ll get you the addresses from my computer.”
“Your daughter is lovely,” I said, still
“You’re performing a valuable service for the community,” I said, trying to keep from biting my tongue.
Mr. Hoffman beamed again. He did have a nice smile. “We believe so. By the end of the 20th century, families had been rent asunder by the temptations of modern life. Our group is trying to promote family values before the human race spirals downward to catastrophe. If we don’t save the family unit at the beginning of the 21 st century, we won’t be around for the end of the century.”
“So you think that keeping men out of the strip clubs and home in the bosom of their families is part of the solution.” I was beginning to talk like he did.
“That is where I am concentrating my efforts. The first step is to gather the license plate numbers. Then we can find the owners of the cars and contact their families and friends. We also urge the men who frequent these bastions of sin to seek professional counseling.”
A family portrait stood on the table beside the sofa where I sat. The three people in the picture were Mr. Hoffman, a woman who must be his wife and a girl, perhaps teenage. “I take it you have a daughter,” I said.
“Yes, a wonderful girl. She is the pride of my life.”
“What would you do if a boy came to date your daughter and he had been to a strip club?”
Tess, sitting beside me on the sofa, made a sudden movement. I glanced at her and saw that she was desperately trying to keep from what—laughing?
Mr. Hoffman’s expression darkened as he scowled. He said, “If a young man came here to see my daughter and told me he had been to a strip club he had better run fast in a zigzag manner.”
“I have a question for you about your patrol Monday night,” I said, quickly. “When you were at Club Cavalier did you happen to see a young lady dressed in a jacket with a hood and wearing a mask come out the back door and get in a car?”
Mr. Hoffman looked at me in a funny way so I continued, “You’re trying to save the patrons. Our organization is trying to save the dancers. This particular dancer always wears a mask and we’re not sure who she is.”
“Oh. No, I can’t say I did. What time would that have been?”
“Around 8:15. And again at about 10:15.”
“We didn’t arrive there until almost 8:30. And later we were covering other clubs. They are usually the most crowded between 8:30 and 10:30 on weekdays.”
“Well, you might have recorded the license plate of the car, anyway. You said you find out who owns the cars. She could be a student. Did any of the cars belong to students at Crescent Heights, do you know, possibly a female student?”
“None belonged to female students. I believe a couple of the owners had dormitory addresses. Of course, it’s possible that other cars might belong to students living in apartments or to their parents. But I’d be glad to give you the information on the ones I’m sure of.”
“We would appreciate that.” Maybe she was being chauffeured by a male student. Take what you can get.
“Would you like some coffee now?”
I accepted, eagerly, Tess with less enthusiasm. I felt I had earned some coffee, although I almost regretted accepting when I saw what a struggle Mr. Hoffman had getting up from his chair.
While he was in the kitchen I picked up the framed picture from the end table and looked at it more closely. I sucked in my breath sharply and Tess said, “Lillian, what’s the matter?”
“This girl—Mr. Hoffman’s daughter,” I said, trying to keep my voice down but in danger of hyperventilating at the same time. “She’s the one who accused Mark of sexual harassment.”
“Are you sure?”
“Almost positive. She has the same dark hair. Same eyes. But she’s smiling in the picture and I haven’t seen her smile.”
Mr. Hoffman limped back into the room and said, “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes. And I’ll get you the addresses from my computer.”
“Your daughter is lovely,” I said, still
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