The chief and Cahoon could agree on nothing, and she knew he was going to have her fired. It was all a matter of time, and would not be a first, either. At her level, it was all politics. The city got a new mayor, who brought along his own chief, which was what had happened to her in Atlanta, and would have in Chicago, had she not left. She really could not afford to get reshuffled again.
Each city would get only smaller, until one fine day she ended up right where she’d started, in the economically languishing one-horse town of Little Rock.
“Of course I will not get up in front of reporters and spread such crap,” the chief said.
“I won’t.”
“Well, it can’t hurt to remind the public that we are following leads and are on the case,” said the public information officer.
“What leads?” said West, who headed investigations, and should be privy to such things.
“If we get any, we’ll follow them,” said Hammer.
“That’s the point.”
“You can’t say that, either,” worried the PIO.
“We have to leave out the ;/ we get any part of…”
Hammer impatiently cut her off.
“Of course, of course. That goes without saying. I didn’t mean literally. Enough of this. Let’s move on. Here’s what we’re going to do. A press release.” She regarded the PIO over reading glasses.
“I want it on my desk by ten-thirty and out to the press by midafternoon so they can meet their deadlines. And I will see if I can get up with Cahoon, talk him down from this.”
This was very much like securing an audience with the Pope. Hammer’s secretary and another assistant traded phone calls with Gaboon’s people for most of the day. Finally, the meeting was barely arranged for late that afternoon, sometime between four-fifteen and five, depending when a gap appeared in the CEO’s impossible schedule. Hammer had no choice but to show up at the early end of this interval and hope for the best.
At four she left her police department and walked through downtown on a lovely afternoon that, before this moment, she had not noticed. She followed Trade to Tryon to the corporate center, with its eternal torch and sculptures. Inside a huge lobby of polished stone, she walked briskly, her heels clicking over marble as she passed rich wood paneling and famous fresco paintings depicting the Shingon philosophy of chaos, creativity, making, and building. She nodded at one of the guards, who nodded back and tipped his cap. He liked that lady chief, and had always thought she walked like she knew how, and she was nice and didn’t disrespect anyone, whether they were a real cop or not.
Hammer boarded a crowded elevator and was the last to get off at the top of the crown, which at this dizzying level, really was aluminum pipes. Hammer had visited Cahoon before. Rarely a month went by that he didn’t summon her to his suite of mahogany and glass overlooking his city. As was true of Hampton Court Palace, visitors were required to pass through many outer layers and courts to get to the king.
Should a crazed gunman decide to carry out his mission, by the time he reached the throne, many secretaries and assistants might be dead, but Cahoon, quite likely, would not have heard the noise.
Several outer offices later, Hammer entered the-one occupied by the executive secretary, Mrs. MullisMundi, also known as M&M by those who did not like her, which was virtually all. She was candy-coated, but with nuts. She would melt in the mouth and break teeth. Hammer, frankly, had no use for this perky young thing who had gotten married and kept her name while appropriating that of her husband, Joe Mundi.
Mrs. Mullis-Mundi was bulimic, and had breast implants and long dyed blond hair. She wore size four Anne Klein. Her cologne was Escada. She worked out daily in Gold’s Gym. She did not wear slacks, and was simply biding time before she sued for sexual harassment.
“Judy, great to see you.” The executive secretary stood and offered her hand with the same lilting style that Hammer had observed in devout bowlers.