Fletch Reflected by Gregory McDonald Page B

accepted,” Beauville said. “When Chester built the lake over there he said henceforth all excuses were to be deep-sixed in there. He said he built it deep enough for every excuse we could think up. He didn’t want to hear them anymore.”
    “You’re sweating,” Downes said. “Why don’t you walk around the back of the building, try to stay out of the air conditioning. Chester’s office is in the center. Ms. Dunbar will see you through the window.”
    “She probably has your pink slip ready,” Beauville said, “to fire you, if you’re more than two minutes late.”
    “I’m more than two minutes late,” Jack said.
    “Then nice having met you. Okay, Downes.” Beauville headed for a gray BMW coupe. “Better go back to town after lunch and find us another whatever-he-is. Pool ornament?”
    “Lunch first.” Downes followed Beauville to the car.
    “Yeah.” Beauville opened the car door. “You don’t want to miss lunch with Chester. Three sliced half pears, a glob of cottage cheese and iced tea.”
    Downes said, “I’ll have a cheeseburger in-town later.” He appeared to be talking to himself. “Ketchup and onions.”
    •
    “You’re late.”
    Jack had walked halfway along the back of the building. The windows were tinted so he could not see the rooms inside.
    All he could see in the windows was himself.
    A sliding glass door had opened.
    “Sorry,” Jack said. “Want an excuse?”
    “Not really.” Nancy Dunbar, although trim enough in figure, had an unattractive face. Her forehead was low, her chin receded, her eyes were small and close together, hernose wide. Her face looked pinched at birth. “Do you have one?”
    “I couldn’t find anyone to give me directions. Do you have a map?”
    “Yes.” She reached inside the building. “You didn’t start in time. Don’t come in. The air conditioning will chill you. You’re sweating. Don’t bother putting on your shirt.” Outside the building, she slid the glass door shut. She had a loose piece of paper in her hand. A purse dangled from her arm. “We’ll go over there.”
    She handed Jack the map. He folded it and put it in his back pocket.
    He went with her along a walk toward what he thought was another building. They went through an arch in the wall.
    He found himself in a walled Japanese garden. Ordinary rocks surrounded by raked sand were spaced throughout it. Stone benches were placed along the meandering natural stone walk that went around and through it. Graceful trees with few leaves stood against the walls of the garden.
    “Hey,” Jack said. “This is nice.”
    “Are you artistic?” Nancy sat on the stone bench closest to the wall nearest the office building. “Raking this daily will be your chore.” Quickly, she took a cigarette out of her purse and lit it. She inhaled deeply. “Try to vary the designs the rake makes in the sand, will you? If you rake it the same way every day, Doctor Radliegh will notice and mention to me that you are a bore with a rake.”
    “I guess that’s better than being a rake with a bore.”
    She glanced at him. She said: “Humor.”
    “I’m not fired?”
    “For being late?” She exhaled a large amount of smoke. “Not this time.”
    “I didn’t think so,” Jack said. “You’re smoking.”
    “Right,” she said. “Not permitted. Care for a cigarette?”
    “No, thanks.”
    She was putting the ash from her cigarette into a Ziploc bag she had taken from her purse.
    “Now, then, I assume Downes gave you all the do’s and don’ts regarding working here.”
    “Mostly don’ts,” Jack said.
    “This garden is your chore, the outdoor pool, the indoor pool, gymnasium, saunas, whirlpool, tennis courts. You’re expected to help out the gardeners when they ask, also the indoor help, in the event of too many guests, or a party. There will be a party here Saturday night. You don’t mind putting on a white jacket and handing around canapes, do you?”
    “I’ll have to sample them first,”