on,” while trying not to slide out of my chair and under the desk.
Ed chuckled, spewing some of the cupcake crumbs onto my computer. “I can see you’re stunned by the idea, but I can’t help myself. These things just come to me from nowhere.”
Could you please send them back?
I thought. In the five years Ed had worked for me, the only idea he’d ever had was to discourage local merchants from advertising. Putting together ads was
work
, a four-letter word Ed found far moreoffensive than any vulgarity. Having frittered away his sizable inheritance and been forced to sell his ersatz villa to RestHaven, he was still trying to figure out ways to make money from his self-published autobiography,
Mr. Ed
.
“… a pig with a badge,” Ed was saying, though I’d missed what had come before. “But the Smokey the Bear hats Dodge and his deputies wear wouldn’t look right. Do you think the sheriff would be offended?”
“In fact,” I replied, “Milo has ordered a different kind of hat for himself and the deputies. They should be arriving in another week or two. He’s been planning to do that for quite a while.”
“Hmm.” Ed rubbed two of his three chins. “What are they like?”
“They’re similar to Australian hats,” I said, for want of a better description. Just being in Ed’s presence turned my brain into goo resembling cupcake frosting. “The crown isn’t as high. As you know, Milo’s kind of tall.”
“Right.” Ed frowned. “I don’t know how Sheriff Pig would look in a hat like that. It’s the ears, you see.”
My phone rang. “Oh, darn,” I said, reaching for the receiver. “Can we talk about this later? I’m expecting an important call.”
“That’s okay, I can wait.”
I tried to control my temper and said hello in what I hoped was an excited tone.
“Is your office on fire?” my brother, Ben, asked in his crackling voice.
“Yes, yes, of course it is!” I replied. “Let me take notes. Or would you rather read me those statements? It doesn’t matter how many pages you’ve got. I don’t want to leave out anything.”
Even Ed could take that broad of a hint. “Maybe I shouldcome back later,” he murmured, still clutching the last cupcake as he heaved himself out of the chair.
“Holy crap,” Ben said, “are you being held hostage? Or has Dodge driven you to despair?”
I watched Ed waddle out through the newsroom. “Ed,” I replied. “Need I say more?”
“Please don’t,” my brother begged. “Even Dennis Kelly, who has the patience of a saint, sometimes wishes Bronsky would defect to another religion. What’s Ed up to now or dare I ask?”
“Don’t,” I said. “There are some things that shouldn’t be conveyed by telephone. How are things in El Paso?”
“As I told you, it’s not what I expected,” Ben replied. “It’s
huge
, especially when you combine it with Juárez, across the Rio Grande. There’s a mountain range on this side and another one in Mexico. The altitude here is higher than Alpine. I thought I’d be hanging out at the border or some damned thing, but mostly I’m helping new immigrants get settled. It’s a far cry from the Mississippi delta and the Native American reservations around Tuba City.”
“Do you like it?”
“I think so. You know I wanted to be in a city again after spending so much of my priesthood on rural assignments. But the past couple of years filling in for priests in big cities cured me of that. Still, this is a whole different culture in all sorts of ways. And would you believe El Paso is one of the safest big cities in the country? Hell, it may be safer than Alpine.”
“You could be right,” I admitted. “Dwight Gould found a body in the Sky late yesterday afternoon.”
“Probably easier to do than catch a fish,” Ben murmured. “Anybody I know?”
“Not a local,” I said. “A Hispanic male from east of the mountains.”
“Maybe Catholic. Got a name so I can offer up a Mass for
Ed chuckled, spewing some of the cupcake crumbs onto my computer. “I can see you’re stunned by the idea, but I can’t help myself. These things just come to me from nowhere.”
Could you please send them back?
I thought. In the five years Ed had worked for me, the only idea he’d ever had was to discourage local merchants from advertising. Putting together ads was
work
, a four-letter word Ed found far moreoffensive than any vulgarity. Having frittered away his sizable inheritance and been forced to sell his ersatz villa to RestHaven, he was still trying to figure out ways to make money from his self-published autobiography,
Mr. Ed
.
“… a pig with a badge,” Ed was saying, though I’d missed what had come before. “But the Smokey the Bear hats Dodge and his deputies wear wouldn’t look right. Do you think the sheriff would be offended?”
“In fact,” I replied, “Milo has ordered a different kind of hat for himself and the deputies. They should be arriving in another week or two. He’s been planning to do that for quite a while.”
“Hmm.” Ed rubbed two of his three chins. “What are they like?”
“They’re similar to Australian hats,” I said, for want of a better description. Just being in Ed’s presence turned my brain into goo resembling cupcake frosting. “The crown isn’t as high. As you know, Milo’s kind of tall.”
“Right.” Ed frowned. “I don’t know how Sheriff Pig would look in a hat like that. It’s the ears, you see.”
My phone rang. “Oh, darn,” I said, reaching for the receiver. “Can we talk about this later? I’m expecting an important call.”
“That’s okay, I can wait.”
I tried to control my temper and said hello in what I hoped was an excited tone.
“Is your office on fire?” my brother, Ben, asked in his crackling voice.
“Yes, yes, of course it is!” I replied. “Let me take notes. Or would you rather read me those statements? It doesn’t matter how many pages you’ve got. I don’t want to leave out anything.”
Even Ed could take that broad of a hint. “Maybe I shouldcome back later,” he murmured, still clutching the last cupcake as he heaved himself out of the chair.
“Holy crap,” Ben said, “are you being held hostage? Or has Dodge driven you to despair?”
I watched Ed waddle out through the newsroom. “Ed,” I replied. “Need I say more?”
“Please don’t,” my brother begged. “Even Dennis Kelly, who has the patience of a saint, sometimes wishes Bronsky would defect to another religion. What’s Ed up to now or dare I ask?”
“Don’t,” I said. “There are some things that shouldn’t be conveyed by telephone. How are things in El Paso?”
“As I told you, it’s not what I expected,” Ben replied. “It’s
huge
, especially when you combine it with Juárez, across the Rio Grande. There’s a mountain range on this side and another one in Mexico. The altitude here is higher than Alpine. I thought I’d be hanging out at the border or some damned thing, but mostly I’m helping new immigrants get settled. It’s a far cry from the Mississippi delta and the Native American reservations around Tuba City.”
“Do you like it?”
“I think so. You know I wanted to be in a city again after spending so much of my priesthood on rural assignments. But the past couple of years filling in for priests in big cities cured me of that. Still, this is a whole different culture in all sorts of ways. And would you believe El Paso is one of the safest big cities in the country? Hell, it may be safer than Alpine.”
“You could be right,” I admitted. “Dwight Gould found a body in the Sky late yesterday afternoon.”
“Probably easier to do than catch a fish,” Ben murmured. “Anybody I know?”
“Not a local,” I said. “A Hispanic male from east of the mountains.”
“Maybe Catholic. Got a name so I can offer up a Mass for
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