‘Forest and Skipwith. I can show you.” Weed’s tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth.
Brazil plucked Weed’s right hand out of his lap.
‘What’d you go and get a tattoo for?’ he said again. ‘Somebody talk you into that?’
‘A lotta people get ’em.’ Weed pulled his hand away.
‘Looks to me like you just got it,’ Brazil said. ‘Maybe even today.’
CHAPTER fourteen
Apparently Governor Feuer and his party had gone on to other courses and conversations. They had yet to emerge from La Petite France, and Roop was tired of waiting. He decided he might as well gather a little intelligence on the fish problem and dialed Hammer’s home number, thanks to Fling, who had stupidly given it to Roop.
‘Hammer,’ she answered.
‘Artis Roop here.’
‘How are you doing, Artis?’
‘I guess you’re wondering how I got your home number
‘It’s in the phone book,’ Hammer said.
‘Right. Listen, Chief Hammer, I’m looking into this fish spill business…”
‘Fish spill?’ She sounded alarmed. ‘Who told you about a fish spill?’
‘I can’t reveal my sources. But if there’s a fish spill, I do think the public needs to know for its own protection, or if for no other reason, so they can choose alternate routes for work in the morning.’
‘There is no fish spill that I know of,’ Hammer answered firmly.
‘Then what are people talking about?’
‘This is simply a housekeeping matter you’re referring to, Artis.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Roop was getting anxious as the door to the restaurant remained closed with no sign of activity. It suddenly occurred to him that the governor might try escaping through the service entrance. Maybe he had already gone. Roop unplugged the phone from the cigarette lighter and scrambled out of the car, still talking.
‘How can fish or a fish spill be an internal matter?’ he persisted.
‘A computer glitch,’ she replied.
‘Oh,’ he said, baffled. ‘I still don’t get it. Is fish some sort of virus?’
‘We hope not,’ said Hammer, who was always straightforward unless she refused to comment.
‘So the COMSTAT telecommunications system is down?’ Roop got to the raw nerve of the matter.
Hammer hesitated, then said, ‘At the moment.’
‘Everywhere?’
‘I have nothing more to say,’ Hammer replied flatly.
Roop was certain the fish problem was big. But he also had other fish to fry. Executive Protection Unit state police officers were coming out of La Petite France, the governor not far behind. Camera lights and flash guns fired from all sides, the governor gracious and unflappable, as was his wife, because they were used to this shit. Roop listened to governor this and governor that and was pleased that Feuer had no comment. Roop casually strolled over to Jed, the governor’s EPU driver.
‘I don’t want to bother him,’ Roop said. ‘I feel sort of sorry for him being bothered like this all the time. Can’t even eat dinner without everyone stalking him.’
‘I wish everybody else felt like that,’ Jed said.
‘How the hell do you park that thing?’ said Roop as he looked over every curve and inch of the gleaming black stretch Lincoln limousine.
Jed laughed as if it were nothing.
‘I mean, really,’ Roop went on as the governor and his wife were briskly escorted to the car. ‘I couldn’t be a driver to begin with. I get lost everywhere. You know how hard it is to roll up on a crime scene when you don’t know where the hell you are?’
Roop had gathered intelligence on Jed, who was known by all, except the governor, to be directionally compromised and deceitful about it.
‘You’re kidding?’ said Jed as he opened the back door for the first family and they climbed inside.
‘Good evening, Governor and Mrs. Feuer,’ Roop bent over to say politely.
‘And to you,’ replied the governor, who was a very gracious man if you could get to him.
‘I saw you on Meet the Press,’ Roop said.
‘Oh, did you?’
‘Yes, governor. You were great. Thank God someone’s sticking up for the tobacco industry,’ Roop gushed.
‘It’s common sense,’ said Feuer. ‘Personally, I don’t smoke. But I believe it’s a choice. Nobody forces it on anybody, and unemployment and black market cigarettes are not a happy prospect.’