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as well be Miss A. Friend from now on, and he fired off another e-mail:
    Dear Trooper Truth,
    I’m so pleased you would take the time to answer a lonely old woman. Superintendent Hammer knows what VASCAR is. It was her idea. I’m surprised you haven’t heard all about the speed traps she’s going to put on Tangier Island and can’t help but suspect she got the idea from your “Brief Explanation.” I applaud you for influencing her to make an example of people who once were in bed with pirates and now take advantage of tourists.
    Sincerely,
Miss A. Friend
    Trader chortled as he dashed off a memo to Hammer. It was brief and confusing, and was accompanied by a press release that was to be circulated immediately, on orders of the governor.
     
    W HAT the hell is this?” Hammer asked when her secretary, Windy Brees, handed her a fax from the governor’s office that informed her of a new speed monitoring program called VASCAR.
    “New to me,” replied Windy. “What a stupid name. I mean, it doesn’t mean anything, if you ask me, except it reminds me of NASCAR, and I bet the governor didn’t think about that. Just another example of not looking before you leak.”
    Hammer read the memo and press release several times,furious that the governor would implement a state police program without conferring with her first.
    “Goddamn it,” she muttered. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. We’re going to start using helicopters to monitor how fast drivers are going? And the first target is Tangier Island, the news of which is to remain classified until white reflective stripes have been painted on what few roads they have out there? Get the governor on the phone for me immediately,” Hammer ordered Windy. “He’s probably in his office. Tell whoever answers that it’s urgent.”
    Windy returned to her desk and rang up the governor’s office, knowing it would do no good. The governor never returned Hammer’s calls and had not met with her once since he appointed her. Windy had learned to fabricate elaborate excuses for her inability to get the governor to respond to Hammer. “One thing’s for sure,” Windy often told the other secretaries and clerks when they were outside on smoking breaks, “a stitch in the hand is worth two in the butt,” which was her way of saying that by fudging to her boss, Windy was taking preventive measures so she didn’t get her ass kicked when she had to tell Hammer that the governor, as usual, couldn’t be bothered with his female state police superintendent.
    Windy’s acquaintances and colleagues had long since stopped correcting Windy’s malapropisms, and by now, no matter how badly she mangled a cliché, most people knew what she meant and, in fact, became vague about what the cliché was supposed to be and ended up reciting the mangled ones. This was maddening to Hammer, who was repeatedly subjected to her staff writing off into the sunset or accusing someone of marching to a different color.
    “Superintendent Hammer?” Windy hovered in the doorway. “I’m sorry, but the governor can’t be reached at the moment. Apparently, he’s in transition.”
    Hammer looked up from a stack of reports and memos she was reviewing. “What do you mean, he’s in transition?”
    “Traveling somewhere. Maybe even walking back to the mansion. I’m not sure.”
    “He’s in transit ?”
    “Or on his way there, I guess.” Windy got more tangled upin her fib. “But I don’t think anybody can reach him right now, to cut to the point. So it’s not just you.”
    “Of course it’s just me!” Hammer looked at the VASCAR memo again, wondering how she would handle the administration’s latest and perhaps most damaging lamebrain decision. “He’s not going to talk to me and you can stop trying to make me feel better about it.”
    “Well, it’s not nice of him.” Windy put her hands on her hips. “And I hope you won’t get mad at me just because of how he treats you.