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from her burnt-orange Range Rover. “Hello,” she called as she walked through the front door.
    “In the kitchen,” Tazio called back, then under her breath said to Mike, “She said she was too upset to come.”
    Wearing lime-green driving loafers with tiny rubber pebbles on the soles, Carla silently walked into the kitchen. Her eyes were swollen. “There you are.” She turned to Mike. “What do you think?”
    “Coming along. We have a problem here. You need a larger outtake for the stove you’re putting in.”
    “Why?” Carla walked into the alcove where the stove would be located, looking up at the four-inch opening.
    “Six inches.”
    “Why?”
    “That’s the code for this type of stove. You could change the stove, of course.” He knew perfectly well she wouldn’t.
    “Why didn’t you know this?” Carla turned on Tazio.
    “I thought I did.”
    “She did.” Mike came to her defense. “This has been under discussion for the last two months.”
    “Is it code yet?”
    “Yes and no.” He hesitated. “Let me put it this way: it will be in writing by the time your stove gets here, and then the kitchen will be finished and you’ll have to tear things up, make a mess, wash all this glass. Just do it now.”
    Face reddening, Carla took it out on Tazio. “I expect this done in the next week, and if you can’t get Arnie back”—she named the fellow responsible for ductwork—“I expect you to do it yourself!”
    “Now, Carla, it’s not her fault.” Mike winked at Tazio, which Carla saw.
    “I don’t give a damn! I want it done and I want it done now, and if there’s anything else, Mike McElvoy, find it now, because I’m not backtracking.”
    He stiffened. “I’m doing my job.”
    “Sure. That’s what everyone says, but I know you can do it better for some people than for others.”
    “That’s not true.”
    She turned silently on her heel and walked out.
    Mike called after her, “Carla, I resent that.”
    She stopped, wheeled to look at him. “You know, Mike McElvoy, you’re not as smart as you think you are, and I’m on to you.”
    As Carla left, Tazio noticed Mike’s hands shaking as he slapped shut his Moleskine notebook. “I hate that bitch.”
    “Join the club.” She did wonder why he’d misinformed Carla, though. The building code didn’t change that quickly. This house was under way. The county couldn’t make the code retroactive. There was nothing wrong with her four-inch outtake duct.
    He took a deep breath. “Can’t let it get under my skin. You know how these people are. I thought Penny Lattimore was a pain in the ass. Hell, she’s an angel compared to this one.”
    Tazio, no fan of Mike’s, did appreciate his task. “Call her tonight. Spread a little oil on the waters.”
    “I can make her life more miserable than she can make mine.”
    “That you can, but how often do you want to attend special hearings or, worse, testify in court if she brings suit against the county? She’s the type, you know.”
    Jamming his notebook back in his pocket, he grumbled, “Right.” He paused. “You know, I’m against abortion. But I tell you, Carla Paulson makes a strong case for free abortion on demand. If only she’d been flushed out of the womb.”
    Shocked at Mike’s harsh statement, Tazio wondered what was happening in his life to make him so crude.

5
    R ain poured at long last. At times Rev. Herb Jones’s cats, Elocution, Cazenovia, and Lucy Fur, could barely see out the window. Dutiful, the three felines attended every vestry-board meeting. Sometimes, Harry’s cats and dog also attended, but not this morning, Saturday, September 20.
    Harry, Susan, Folly, BoomBoom, and Herb eked out a quorum. Nolan Carter, the local oil supplier, was in Tulsa on business. Marvin Lattimore, Penny’s husband, was also out of town on business. He bought used airplanes, from Piper Cubs to 747s, refurbished them, and sold them to rich individuals and to corporate clients. For the heck