Cruz’s fellow soldiers had been a bit more informative. Slowly, under persistent questioning, a certain picture of Anibal Cruz had emerged. Miggy began to smile, remembering. The world-renowned physicist, born into a branch of Mexico City’s elite and then transplanted to the United States in his infancy, suspected he would have enjoyed the company of another of Mexico’s many offspring. Even though Cruz had been born and raised in an environment about as different from that of young Tremelo as could be imagined.
Thinking about Lieutenant Salinas, Miggy’s incipient smile vanished. Oh, well, he thought philosophically, such men can be found in every race, color and creed. He snorted. Nobody seemed to have much use for John Salinas. Even his wife had been far more agitated over the fact that the life insurance company was demanding proof of death than her husband’s actual fate.
That left only—
Bracing himself, he went back to the door to the outer office and opened it. The troll looked up from her desk.
“Sir?”
“Still no word from Mrs. Jackson?”
The troll’s lips grew pinched. Well . . . the thin crevasse where lips were normally to be found on a human face vanished completely. She sniffed. Well . . . she uttered a sound through her nose which reminded Tremelo of—
He shied away from the thought hastily.
“In a matter of speaking, Professor Tremelo. The Jackson woman did call early this morning. But when I informed her that she was required to appear at your office in order to pursue the preliminary psychological assessment—”
Miggy stifled a combined groan and snarl of fury. The struggle was ferocious enough to cause him to miss the next few words.
“—could not believe her insolence. Can you imagine? Those people—!”
Even the troll realized she was treading on thin ice. “Well, in any event. You can be sure I informed her that under no circumstances would the United States government make good her so-called ‘lost wages.’ And of course when she—”
“She’s a waitress, you insufferable creature!”bellowed Tremelo. The fact that the physicist rarely lost his temper was compensated, perhaps, by the volcanic results when he did. “The United States government hiccups that much money for—for—”
He clamped his jaws shut, stymied by his utter inability to think of anything the U.S. government spent so little money on.
The troll was ogling him, as pale as a sheet. Even she, apparently, had been intimidated by the famous Tremelo Tremor.
“She wanted her tips made good, too,” squeaked the creature.
Tremelo’s fury was instantaneously transformed into almost hysterical laughter.
“Good for her!” he managed to get out. After a moment, when he’d brought himself under control, he stood fully erect and pointed at the telephone. The long finger bore a close resemblance to a wizard’s wand of wrath.
“You will call Mrs. Jackson. You will apologize for your rude conduct this morning. You will—”
Abruptly, he shook his head and advanced upon the telephone in question. “Never mind,” he growled. “I wouldn’t trust you to invite a crocodile to lunch. What is the number?”
The troll’s thick fingers fluttered their way through the notes on her desk. Garbled explanations followed. It seemed Mrs. Jackson was rarely at home . . . children being taken care of by the grandmother . . . long hours at work . . . longer than ever, now that her husband had vanished . . .
Miggy sighed and began punching numbers into the telephone. “Information? I need the telephone number of the South Side Cafe, please.”
* * *
The telephone was answered on the third ring by a harried-sounding voice, rich with the accent of Chicago’s south side. “South Side Cafe. Yeah, I’m Marie Jackson.”
“Mrs. Jackson,” said Miggy evenly, “this is Professor Tremelo. I just discovered that you were treated very rudely this morning. Please accept my sincere apologies.”
For perhaps half a minute, Miggy listened to the voice on the other end. And a pungenthalf a minute it was, too. By the time the voice came to a halt, Tremelo was bestowing a wintry smile on the troll.
“I fully sympathize, Mrs. Jackson, and I can assure you that it won’t happen again. Moreover, I will be more than glad to make good your lost income. But I really mustspeak to you as soon as possible. Would this afternoon be convenient? I can send someone to pick you up, if you need a ride.”
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