G Is For Gumshoe

Many of the CF employees were already there, standing together in groups of three and four, drinks in hand. I spotted Mac Voorhies and his wife Marie, Jewel and her husband (whom I'd only met once), Darcy Pascoe and her boyfriend, the (allegedly) dope-peddling mailman. Vera slipped her hand through Dietz's arm and the three of us circled the room while everyone was introduced to everyone else and we all promptly forgot who was who. I could see Vera doing an eyeball cruise, checking across the heads to see if Neil Hess had arrived yet. I was just hoping he'd be tall enough for her to spot.

Dietz bought us each a drink. His was a plain soda water with lime, mine a white wine, and Vera's a tequila sunrise. She sucked that one down and bought herself another. I watched her with interest. I'd never seen Vera so tense. She turned to Dietz. "God, how can you drink without smoking a cigarette?"

"This isn't alcohol."

She rolled her eyes. "That's even worse. I'm going to bum one," she said. "No, I'm not. Well, maybe one. A puff."

"Is that Neil?" I asked. A doctorish type was poised in the doorway, searching for a familiar face. Without a reference point, of course, it wasn't possible to tell just how short he was, but he looked okay to me. Pleasant face, dark hair cut stylishly. He wore a navy suit, pale blue shirt I could have bet would have monogrammed cuffs. The bow tie was unexpected-I hadn't seen one in years. Vera raised a hand. His face brightened when he spotted her. He made his way across the room while she moved to join him, tucking her arm in his when they co

17

Vera, in charge of the seating, had of course set it up so that Neil Hess and I were together. She and Dietz were at the table to our left. Dietz had apparently interceded to some extent, arranging it so that I was secured in one corner of the room, facing the entrance. Dietz was seated with his back to me, facing the entrance as well so he could keep an eye on the door. Vera was on his left, fully visible to me while all I could see of him was the back of his head. Both tables flanked an emergency exit that the security director had assured Dietz would remain unlocked for us during the course of the banquet.

By eight, everyone had arrived and the assembled group settled at the tables like a flock of birds. The noise level had risen several decibels as a result of the alcohol consumed. These were company relationships and there was a sense of giddiness and unease at the sudden shift from business to social behaviors. The three-course di

I tuned into the conversation at the table. Neil and I had been seated with two underwriters and their wives, a foursome talking bridge with an intensity I envied. I gathered they'd just returned from some kind of bridge-oriented cruise in which baby slams and gourmet foods were served up in equal measure. Much talk of no-trump, double finesses, and Sheinwold, whose strategies they were debating. Since neither Neil nor I played, we were left to our own devices, a possibility Vera had probably calculated well in advance.

At close range, the man was attractive enough, though I saw no particular evidence of all the virtues Vera had ascribed to him. Nice hands. Nice mouth. Seemed a bit self-satisfied, but that might have been discomfort masquerading as arrogance. I noticed that when we talked about professional matters (his work, in other words) he exuded confidence. When it came to his personal life, he was unsure of himself and usually shifted the subject to safer ground. By the time the dessert came, we were still groping our way through various conversational gambits, casting about for common interests without much success.

"Where'd you go to school, Kinsey?"

"Santa Teresa High."

"I meant college."

"I didn't go to college."

"Oh really? That surprises me. You seem smart enough."

"People don't hire me for 'smart.' They hire me because I'm too dumb to know when to quit. Also, I'm a woman, so they think I'll work cheap."

He laughed. I wasn't being fu

He pushed his dessert plate aside and took a sip of coffee. "If you got a degree, you could write your own ticket, couldn't you?"

I looked at him. "A degree in what?"

"Criminalistics, I would guess."

"Then I'd have to go to work for the government or the local cops. I already did that and hated it. I'm better off where I am. Besides, I hated school, too. All I did was smoke dope." I leaned toward him. "Now can I ask you one?"

"Sure."

"How did you and Vera meet?"

He was almost imperceptibly disconcerted, shifting slightly in his seat. "A mutual friend introduced us a couple of months ago. We've been seeing each other ever since… just as friends, of course. Nothing serious."

"Oh yeah, right," I said. "So what do you think?"

"About Vera? She's terrific."

"How come you're sitting here with me, then?"

He laughed again, a false, hearty roar that avoided a reply.

"I'm serious," I said. His smile cooled down by degrees. He still wasn't addressing the issue so I tried it myself. "You know what I think it is? I got the impression she had the hots for you herself and didn't know how to handle it."

He gave me a look like I was speaking in tongues. "I have a hard time believing that," he said. He thought about it for a moment. "Anyway, she's a bit tall for me, don't you think?"

"Not at all. You look great together. I was watching when you came in."

He gave his head a slight shake. "I know it bothers her. She's never actually come out and said so, but-"

"She'll get over it."

"You think so?"

"Does it bother you?"

"Not a bit."

"Then what's the problem?"

He looked at me. His face was begi

"You should hear the way she talks about you," I went on. " 'Eight and a half on a scale of ten.' That's how she describes you. I swear to God."

"Are you kidding?"

"Neil, come on. I wouldn't kid about that. She's completely smitten with you. She just hasn't figured it out yet."

Now he laughed the kind of laugh that made his whole face light up. A boyish pleasure showed through and I could swear he blushed. He was really kind of cute. I glanced up in time to see Vera shoot me a stark look. I gave her a little finger wave and turned my attention back to him. "I mean, what the hell are relationships about?" I asked.

"But she's never given any indication…"

"Well, I'm telling you for a fact. I've known her for ages and I've never heard her talk about a guy the way she talks about you." He was taking it in, but I could tell he wasn't buying it.

"How tall are you?" I said. "You don't look short to me."

"Five seven."

"She's only five nine. What's the big deal?" Mac Voorhies tapped on his glass with a spoon about then, saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention…" He and Marie had been placed at table two, near the center of the room. Jewel and her husband were at the same table and I could see Jewel begin to squirm, anticipating the speech to come. Maclin Voorhies is one of the California Fidelity vice presidents, lean and humorless, with sparse, flyaway white hair and a perpetual cigar clamped between his teeth. He's smart and fair-minded, honorable, conservative, ill-tempered sometimes, but a very capable executive. The notion of being publicly praised by this man had already brought the color to Jewel's face. The room gradually quieted.