“What is it?”
“I’ve got the hotel manager of the Plaza on the line here. It seems a couple of your law-abiding troops are brawling in his lobby. Do you want to handle this, or should I send a few of my boys over to break it up?”
The commander held out his hand for the phone, which the chief passed him after a moment’s hesitation.
“Phule here, Bombast. What seems to be the problem?”
“That’s Bom— oh! Mr. Phule,” came the hotel manager’s voice through the receiver. “It’s … ah … nothing really. “
“If it’s nothing, why are you bothering the police?”
“I just … I didn’t know how to reach you, sir, and a couple of your … troops are fighting in the lobby. Now, I’d like to be tolerant, but I have a responsibility to the owners if any damage is done, and my security can’t …
“Is one of them a woman?”
“Sir?”
“Come on, Bombast, you know the difference. Is one of them a woman … fairly short?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Can you hold for a moment?”
Phule covered the receiver with one hand while he counted slowly to ten.
“Bombast?”
“Yes, Mr. Phule?”
“Are they still fighting?”
“Well … no, sir. It seems to have stopped.”
“Then that’s that. Oh, and Bombast?”
“Yes, Mr. Phule?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary to trouble the police with every little scuffle that occurs. If I’m not around, let one of the lieutenants or sergeants know and they’ll handle it … and I’ll personally guarantee any damages to the hotel. All right?”
“Y-yes, Mr. Phule.”
“Fine. Goodbye now.”
Shaking his head, the commander returned the chief’s phone to its cradle.