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spilled onto the gas stove."
“We're holding the kid in the cuffs. What do you want to do with him?” “He's FTA. I need to turn him in.”
"If you turn him in, you're going to be implicated in the fire. It's going to get you more
publicity."
“I need the money.”
Ranger got a bottle of water from the fridge. “I can give you a job if you need money.” “What would I do?”
"Fill my minority quota, for one thing. I only employ one woman, and she's my
housekeeper."
“Besides that?”
“Odd jobs,” Ranger said. “You can work part-time on an as needed basis.” “Do you need me now?”
Ranger smiled.
“You missed your chance,” I told him.
"I'll get another one. You got a phone call while you were in the shower, and he left a
message. You should listen to it."
The message was from Peter Smullen. He wanted to speak to me. Would I please call him
back.
Ranger was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching me.
“Hard to believe my day could get any worse,” I said to him.
“You underestimate yourself.”
I dialed Smullen's number and waded through layers of secretaries. Finally, Smullen came
on. “I appreciate the callback,” he said. "I imagine your days are complicated since Dickie's
disappearance."
“Its been interesting.”
“I was hoping we could get together for a chat.”
“What do you want to chat about?” I asked him.
“Things.”
“That narrows it down.”
"I prefer not to discuss sensitive issues on the phone. I have a full schedule this afternoon,
but I was hoping we might meet for a drink after hours. Perhaps the bar at the Marriott at
eight?"
