Flood
“Flood and I had been through what had to be done a few dozen times, and I could see she was finally ready to sleep. I told her I’d call when I had something and went out the door. I rang for the elevator, sent it back down to the ground floor, hit the switch to call it back to me. I stood there waiting, smoking another cigarette. When I finished I ground out the butt on the floor and slipped it into my pocket. Still dead quiet.I took the stairs down and walked to the car—it looked different in ...daylight, streaked and dull like it needed a bath. By now the Volvo we had used to visit Goldor would be nothing but scrap metal. Still a lot of traffic on the street, but I couldn’t wait for the night—too much to do.The Plymouth found its way back to the office on auto-pilot. I locked it up, climbed the stairs, checking everything as I walked. Still okay. Pansy wasn’t even impatient but she stalked out the back door and onto the roof readily enough. I picked up the desk phone, cleared it for hippies, and dialed Mama’s—no messages.Pansy rolled in the back door, I found her something to eat and I sat with her while she snarfed up the mess I’d made for her in her steel bowl—trying to think, and drawing a blank.I went into the side room to the chest of drawers, made a hook out of a coat hanger, looped it around one of the handles on the bottom drawer, and gently pulled it out.MoreLess
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