experience.
âWhat about that blind tap-dance troupe? I could shoot an interview with them tomorrow. Or the deaf bass player ⦠,â I offered.
âRobin, all bass players are deaf, eventually.â
âWell, the matchbook might not come directly from Anyaâs. Those sex clubs and phone-sex lines advertise on matchbooks given out in delis and stuff. It could come from â¦â
âAnyaâs matches are only available at Anyaâs. I called and asked.â
Iâd been debating whether to tell Jerry that Iâd seen Dr. Kanengiser, as I didnât want to inspire any jokes or summon up any images of my genitalia in his mind. But heâd left me no choice. I had to play that card.
âI might not be the best reporter for this piece,â I said. âI had an appointment with him last night. I didnât keep it, but I did see him once.â
âAnd so? You knew him well or something?â
âI didnât know the guy at all. He never examined me. But it still makes me uncomforââ
âAnd youâre not a suspect?â
âOf course not.â
âGood, wouldnât want any more of that Griff trouble we had. So he didnât examine you and youâre not a suspect. Nice try, Robin, but you canât get out of this on some ethical loophole. The word around here is, he was a busy boy up there on the twenty-seventh floor. Not all the women who came to visit him were patients.â
âBut rumors donâtââ
âRobin, heâs just a really grabby example of someone who may have been involved in the S&M lifestyle. We donât need a lot on him.â
âI donât mean to be impertinent ⦠,â I began.
Jerry pulled out the lower left drawer of his desk. The drawer stuck slightly, causing his coffee mug, which reads CHIEF MELON INSPECTOR â WTNA TV & RADIO , and the ACE award for the vigilantism seriesâthe series I did despite the fact that the trophy bore Jerryâs name onlyâto rattle.
âSee these?â he said, motioning to a drawer full of papers. âThese are the résumés of all the reporters who want to replace you. You donât seem to get that whatâs good for Special Reports is good for all of us. Iâve carried you a long time in this unit, Robin. You know I have.â
âBut Jerry, just hear me outââ
âRobin, it seems whenever I listen to you we get into trouble. Do I have to remind you that, because of you, the cryogenics people are suing us â¦â
âThat wasnât my fault!â I said. âBesides, the heads were saved.â
This referred to an incident at the Cryogenics East center, where the heads of some thirty-five people were kept frozen in hopes of being brought back to life some day with bionic bodies. While we were shooting, on an unseasonably muggy day I might add, there was a power failure compounded by the breakdown of the backup generator. Meltdown. The place exploded in panic as the proprietor tried to get LILCO and an emergency electrician on the line and his assistants ran out to the gas station next door to get ice to keep the frozen heads frozen.
It turns out our lighting equipment shorted out the system, which was the fault of our new cameraman, Mike. He wasnât used to operating with American voltage. In any event, as I said, the heads were saved, thus saving my conscience from the added burden of thirty-five rotting human heads.
âYour fault or not, these things always seem to happen when youâre around. And I still donât know what you said to offend Max Guffy,â Jerry continued.
âYou know how touchy morticians are â¦â
âThe point is, I think you know what side your bread is buttered on, Robin.â
Just for emphasis, he opened that big drawer full of résumés again.
What an asshole, I thought, even as I smiled at him. Try as I might to be like Atticus