wondered what Diana Hauser did with herself when she wasn’t lining her pockets with underwear. Volunteering at the local children’s hospital didn’t seem a realistic assumption. I only had a couple psych courses, so my knowledge of the subject is pretty meager, but you don’t need a PhD to realize that a woman who shoplifts out of her husband’s store is executing one of the all-time great look-at-me ploys. But was it working for her? And if it wasn’t, what came next? Plop down in the middle of the designer casual section, douse herself with kerosene, and light a match?
When I got to the lab, Harry was bent over a lab table and didn’t see me in the doorway. I watched him sprinkle donut crumbs into a cage containing several rodent-like creatures. They could have been mice, gerbils, or guinea pigs. I can never tell the difference. I lurched into the room, Quasimodo-style, dragging one foot behind me.
Without turning, Harry said, “Be with you in a second, Quint.”
I stopped. “Dammit, Harry. Next time I‘m wearing swim fins.”
Harry shrugged and dropped the last piece of donut into the cage. “Quint, you could wear high heels. I‘d recognize
that size-ten shuffle of yours no matter how you disguise it.”
He was probably right. Harry had an uncanny ability to know people by their footstep. I hadn’t been able to trick him yet. “Yeah,” I said, “but I’m gonna try. It gives my life purpose.”
Harry turned and looked at me for the first time. He took a step backward in exaggerated surprise. “Quint. You’ve changed.”
Motioning for him to drop the subject, I approached the rodent cage and peered in. “You always make friends with these little guys before you shoot ‘em full of sugar substitutes?”
Harry’s expression was sober. “There is no progress without sacrifice.”
I looked at him. “Seriously. What are you going to do to them?”
“I feed these gerbils junk food to observe how it affects their ability to procreate. A fanatical bunch of nutritionists wants to know.” He gestured toward one of the creatures. “So far, he’s sired eighteen litters.”
I looked at the animal. “No kidding,” I said, not knowing whether, for a gerbil, that was a good record or not. “Nice goin',” I said to the animal. It studied me for a moment and then went back to snuffling for crumbs.
I straightened up. “It’s damned near impossible to find a parking space around here.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Quint, you’d have trouble finding a parking space in a mall on Super Bowl Sunday.”
“You’re probably right,” I conceded.
“What’s this I hear about you and Maggie?”
“I don’t know. What do you hear, and from whom?”
“Nothing really. Maggie called. Figured you guys had a spat.”
“More than that. I was replaced with a newer model. So was my car.”
Harry grunted in sympathy. “I never thought that was a match made in heaven, even though Carol did. Who’s to tell?” He scratched his chin, thinking, then said, “You going to tell me where you’re living?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against one of the tables. “Harry, did you ever do something so impulsive, so devoid of any input from the reasoning part of your brain that you had trouble admitting it to yourself, let alone someone else?”
Harry studied me for a minute before asking, “What’s her name?”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
Harry grinned and chuckled. “Wait’ll Maggie finds out.” Then he became more serious. “She’s been trying to get hold of you, you know.”
“I know.”
He smiled again. “Ain’t love grand?”
I shrugged and pulled the letters out of my pocket. “Love stinks. Most of the time.”
“Spoken like a veteran of the wars.” He turned his attention toward the envelopes. “What’ve you got for me?”
I handed him Hauser’s photos, and Harry spent several minutes looking them over, studying them from all angles as I filled him in
When I got to the lab, Harry was bent over a lab table and didn’t see me in the doorway. I watched him sprinkle donut crumbs into a cage containing several rodent-like creatures. They could have been mice, gerbils, or guinea pigs. I can never tell the difference. I lurched into the room, Quasimodo-style, dragging one foot behind me.
Without turning, Harry said, “Be with you in a second, Quint.”
I stopped. “Dammit, Harry. Next time I‘m wearing swim fins.”
Harry shrugged and dropped the last piece of donut into the cage. “Quint, you could wear high heels. I‘d recognize
that size-ten shuffle of yours no matter how you disguise it.”
He was probably right. Harry had an uncanny ability to know people by their footstep. I hadn’t been able to trick him yet. “Yeah,” I said, “but I’m gonna try. It gives my life purpose.”
Harry turned and looked at me for the first time. He took a step backward in exaggerated surprise. “Quint. You’ve changed.”
Motioning for him to drop the subject, I approached the rodent cage and peered in. “You always make friends with these little guys before you shoot ‘em full of sugar substitutes?”
Harry’s expression was sober. “There is no progress without sacrifice.”
I looked at him. “Seriously. What are you going to do to them?”
“I feed these gerbils junk food to observe how it affects their ability to procreate. A fanatical bunch of nutritionists wants to know.” He gestured toward one of the creatures. “So far, he’s sired eighteen litters.”
I looked at the animal. “No kidding,” I said, not knowing whether, for a gerbil, that was a good record or not. “Nice goin',” I said to the animal. It studied me for a moment and then went back to snuffling for crumbs.
I straightened up. “It’s damned near impossible to find a parking space around here.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Quint, you’d have trouble finding a parking space in a mall on Super Bowl Sunday.”
“You’re probably right,” I conceded.
“What’s this I hear about you and Maggie?”
“I don’t know. What do you hear, and from whom?”
“Nothing really. Maggie called. Figured you guys had a spat.”
“More than that. I was replaced with a newer model. So was my car.”
Harry grunted in sympathy. “I never thought that was a match made in heaven, even though Carol did. Who’s to tell?” He scratched his chin, thinking, then said, “You going to tell me where you’re living?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against one of the tables. “Harry, did you ever do something so impulsive, so devoid of any input from the reasoning part of your brain that you had trouble admitting it to yourself, let alone someone else?”
Harry studied me for a minute before asking, “What’s her name?”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
Harry grinned and chuckled. “Wait’ll Maggie finds out.” Then he became more serious. “She’s been trying to get hold of you, you know.”
“I know.”
He smiled again. “Ain’t love grand?”
I shrugged and pulled the letters out of my pocket. “Love stinks. Most of the time.”
“Spoken like a veteran of the wars.” He turned his attention toward the envelopes. “What’ve you got for me?”
I handed him Hauser’s photos, and Harry spent several minutes looking them over, studying them from all angles as I filled him in
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