be guaranteed.”
“Got to have the free press,” said Fletch.
“Do you really think so? Neither the substance of America’s favorite sport, politics, nor the substance of America’s favorite food, the hot dog, can bear too much analysis. If the innards of either American politics or the American hot dog were too fully revealed, the American would have to disavow and disgorge himself.”
“You against motherhood too?”
Dr. Thom clicked the nail of his index finger against the cover of the book on his chest. “On the evolutionary scale, Woman and The Bird, of course, are superior.” He cleared his throat. “Which is why, of course, Man invented the telephone wire.”
“I understand you were one of the first people to get to the body of Alice Elizabeth Shields last night.”
“I was.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“Have you a morbid curiosity?”
“Fredericka Arbuthnot and Michael J. Hanrahan are not on the press bus to count the votes in congressional districts. They’re crime writers.”
“You mean the death of Ms. Shields might affect the campaign in some way?”
“They tell me two young women have been murdered on the fringes of this campaign just this last week.”
“Oh, dear. And the perpetrator might be one of us?”
“There’s a good possibility of it.”
“And you’d like to get the facts before they do, so you can put the right spin on them.”
“And do so very quietly. Without appearing to do so.”
Dr. Thom studied the roof a moment. “Don’t the police have anything to do with this? Or have they read their own statistical success-rates at solving murders and given up on them? Plan to limittheir activities henceforth to placing parking tickets on stationary, nonargumentative cars, at which function they are very good?”
“The murders are too spread out. Different jurisdictions. We are blessed in this country by not having a national police force.”
“Ah, yes. Guaranteeing that only the smaller, narrower-visioned criminal gets caught.”
“Tell me what happened last night.”
“I was in the bar. A bellman came in—or the doorman, whatever he was. I’m not sure whether he was looking for a responsible person, a motel manager, a doctor, or for a drink. He said, sort of choking, so that his voice stood out in the tired, somber crowd anyway, ‘Someone jumped off the roof. She’s naked.’”
“Exact words?”
“I may not remember everything said in the bar last night, about Senator Upton, Senator Graves, the Middle East, and
The Washington Post
, but I do remember those words exactly. It took a moment for them to sink in.”
“Who was with you in the bar at that point?”
“I had been talking with Fenella Baker and Betsy Ginsberg. I had been talking with Bill Dieckmann earlier, but I think he’d left some time before. The usual faces in a motel bar. A few morose businessmen drinking themselves to sleep. A few long-haul, tongue-tied drivers desperate to talk with anybody about anything.”
“That all?”
“All I can remember. After the event, of course, after the ambulance had come and gone, the press were in the bar in force. Some had just thrown on coats over their pajamas.”
“Tell me about going out to the girl. Examining her.”
“Due to the high incidence of malpractice suits these days, you know doctors do not rush in where even fools fear to tread. Of course, if I ever come across a lawyer lying on the sidewalk, I’ll tread on his face.”
“You don’t like lawyers either?”
“Even lawyers’ mothers don’t like lawyers. If you do a survey, I think you’ll find that lawyers’ mothers are the strongest advocates of legal abortions in the land.”
Fletch fought the mesmerizing quality of the doctor’s manner ofspeech. “Going through the lobby, did you see Governor Wheeler coming in?”
“No. No, I did not. I didn’t see the governor at all last night until I went to his suite.”
“To put him to sleep.”
“To put him
“Got to have the free press,” said Fletch.
“Do you really think so? Neither the substance of America’s favorite sport, politics, nor the substance of America’s favorite food, the hot dog, can bear too much analysis. If the innards of either American politics or the American hot dog were too fully revealed, the American would have to disavow and disgorge himself.”
“You against motherhood too?”
Dr. Thom clicked the nail of his index finger against the cover of the book on his chest. “On the evolutionary scale, Woman and The Bird, of course, are superior.” He cleared his throat. “Which is why, of course, Man invented the telephone wire.”
“I understand you were one of the first people to get to the body of Alice Elizabeth Shields last night.”
“I was.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“Have you a morbid curiosity?”
“Fredericka Arbuthnot and Michael J. Hanrahan are not on the press bus to count the votes in congressional districts. They’re crime writers.”
“You mean the death of Ms. Shields might affect the campaign in some way?”
“They tell me two young women have been murdered on the fringes of this campaign just this last week.”
“Oh, dear. And the perpetrator might be one of us?”
“There’s a good possibility of it.”
“And you’d like to get the facts before they do, so you can put the right spin on them.”
“And do so very quietly. Without appearing to do so.”
Dr. Thom studied the roof a moment. “Don’t the police have anything to do with this? Or have they read their own statistical success-rates at solving murders and given up on them? Plan to limittheir activities henceforth to placing parking tickets on stationary, nonargumentative cars, at which function they are very good?”
“The murders are too spread out. Different jurisdictions. We are blessed in this country by not having a national police force.”
“Ah, yes. Guaranteeing that only the smaller, narrower-visioned criminal gets caught.”
“Tell me what happened last night.”
“I was in the bar. A bellman came in—or the doorman, whatever he was. I’m not sure whether he was looking for a responsible person, a motel manager, a doctor, or for a drink. He said, sort of choking, so that his voice stood out in the tired, somber crowd anyway, ‘Someone jumped off the roof. She’s naked.’”
“Exact words?”
“I may not remember everything said in the bar last night, about Senator Upton, Senator Graves, the Middle East, and
The Washington Post
, but I do remember those words exactly. It took a moment for them to sink in.”
“Who was with you in the bar at that point?”
“I had been talking with Fenella Baker and Betsy Ginsberg. I had been talking with Bill Dieckmann earlier, but I think he’d left some time before. The usual faces in a motel bar. A few morose businessmen drinking themselves to sleep. A few long-haul, tongue-tied drivers desperate to talk with anybody about anything.”
“That all?”
“All I can remember. After the event, of course, after the ambulance had come and gone, the press were in the bar in force. Some had just thrown on coats over their pajamas.”
“Tell me about going out to the girl. Examining her.”
“Due to the high incidence of malpractice suits these days, you know doctors do not rush in where even fools fear to tread. Of course, if I ever come across a lawyer lying on the sidewalk, I’ll tread on his face.”
“You don’t like lawyers either?”
“Even lawyers’ mothers don’t like lawyers. If you do a survey, I think you’ll find that lawyers’ mothers are the strongest advocates of legal abortions in the land.”
Fletch fought the mesmerizing quality of the doctor’s manner ofspeech. “Going through the lobby, did you see Governor Wheeler coming in?”
“No. No, I did not. I didn’t see the governor at all last night until I went to his suite.”
“To put him to sleep.”
“To put him
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