Madison Avenue Shoot by Jessica Fletcher Page A

Did you ever see such a pair of egos? Him with his assistant writing down everything he says, as if pearls of wisdom could ever drip from those lips. You should have heard Betsy take that little girl over the coals before you arrived.”
    “Why would she do that?”
    “Does she need a reason? She’s not the sweetest cube in the sugar bowl, let me tell you. Told little Lena she should be ashamed to degrade herself working with that charlatan. That’s the word she used, ‘charlatan.’ Told her that if she had any brains, she would get a ‘real’ job instead of following around that phony like a sick puppy. I thought Lena was going to cry, but she didn’t. Raised her chin and walked away. Didn’t defend herself or nothin’, just walked away.”
    “Good for her,” I said. “You can’t argue with someone when they’re being rude or calling names like that. The best thing to do is not to give them the satisfaction of a response.”
    “That’s what I tell Frank, too, Aunt Jess,” Grady said. “Sometimes some kid will tease him at school. I tell him, ‘Don’t get into a fight. Just walk away.’ ”
    “Well, Lena did just that, didn’t give Betsy the satisfaction of a response. ’Course, that wouldn’t have been the reaction of Miss Nasty Mouth, you can bet on that. She would have made it a knock-down, drag-out fight. I kinda cotton to that idea. Wouldn’t you just love to see them two go at it?”
    “Who do you mean?” Grady asked.
    “Now, don’t look at me like that, Jessica,” Stella said, ignoring Grady. “You can’t tell me you ever heard a nice word from Anne Tripper.”
    “Hoo boy, she’s a tough one, all right,” Grady said.
    “I didn’t have much of a conversation with her,” I said.
    “Well, consider yourself lucky,” she said. “Doesn’t even open her gift. Can you imagine? I worked too hard in my life to turn up my nose at twenty-five thousand dollars. Right, Jimbo?”
    Jimbo nodded as he snapped closed the latches on his briefcase.
    Stella turned to me. “Get Betsy Archibald to put you up at the Waldorf, Jessica. That way we can go to the set together in the morning.”
    “I’ll certainly ask about it,” I said.
     
    “Station one to station two, do you hear me? Come in.”
    There was a crackle of static and then a reply. “Station one, I hear you.”
    “Where are you now, station two? Come in.”
    “I’m in the bedroom.”
    “It works!” Frank said into the two-way radio as he ran down the hall of the apartment into his parents’ bedroom. “Now we have to go up to your house,” I heard him say.
    “What’s he up to?” I asked Grady as I slipped off my jacket. We were going out to dinner together—my treat—and I’d come over to the apartment while we waited for Donna to arrive home.
    “They’re trying out a set of walkie-talkies that Michele got for his birthday,” Grady said, hanging my jacket on a hook in the hall closet.
    “Sounds like they’re working just fine.”
    “They should. They’re supposed to be long-range. I thought all the metal in the building would have an effect, but it doesn’t seem to be interfering.”
    Frank bounced down the hall and jumped in front of me. “Aunt Jessica, look what Michele got.” He held up the two-way radio receiver. “We’re testing how far away it can work.”
    “I see,” I said.
    Frank waved the receiver in front of me. “Want to talk to Michele?”
    “Where is Michele?” I asked.
    “He’s right here,” Frank said, skipping back down the hall yelling his friend’s name.
    “Take it easy, sport. He’s not deaf.” Grady shook his head. “Lucky we live on the first floor. I’d pity anyone who had an apartment beneath ours.”
    “Come on,” Frank said, gesturing to a boy behind him. “She’s nice. I told you about her.”
    Michele, who was half a foot taller than Frank, shyly followed him to meet me. Dressed in jeans and an Aerosmith T-shirt, with his iPod wire dangling from a pocket, he