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The Lunatic Cafe :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 80 из 234What does he want me to do?"
"Raise an ancestor from the dead. He's under a family curse. A witch told him if he could talk to the ancestor that the curse originated with, she might be able to lift it."
"Why double the fee?"
"The curse started with one of two brothers. He doesn't know which one."
"So I have to raise them both."
"If we're lucky, only one."
"But you keep the second fee anyway," I said.
Bert nodded vigorously, happy as a greedy clam. "It's even your job description, and besides, even you wouldn't let a fellow go through his life with feathers on his head if you could help him, now would you?"
"You smug bastard," I said, but my voice sounded tired even to me.
Bert just smiled. He knew he'd won.
"You'll clear clients with me that aren't zombie raisings or vampire slayings?" I said.
"If you have the time to read up on every client I see, then I certainly have time to write up a report."
"I don't need to read about every client, just the ones you're sending my way."
"But, Anita, you know it's just luck of the draw which of you is on duty on any given day."
"Damn you, Bert."
"You've kept Ms. Drew waiting long enough, don't you think?"
I stood up. It was no use. I was outmaneuvered. He knew it. I knew it. The only thing left was a graceful retreat.
"Your two o'clock canceled. I'll have Mary send Gunderson in."
"Is there anything you wouldn't schedule in as a client, Bert?"
He seemed to think about that for a minute, then shook his head. "If they could pay the fee, no."
"You are a greedy son of a bitch."
"I know."
It was no use. I wasn't winning this one. I went for the door.
"You're wearing a gun." He sounded outraged.
"Yeah, what of it?"
"I think you can meet clients in broad daylight at our offices without being armed."
"I don't think so."
"Just put the gun in the desk drawer like you used to."
"Nope." I opened the door.
"I don't want you meeting clients armed, Anita."
"Your problem, not mine."
"I could make it yours," he said. His face was flushed, voice tight with anger. Maybe we were going to get to fight after all.
I closed the door. "You mean fire me?"
"I am your boss."
"We can argue about clients, but the gun is not negotiable."
"The gun frightens clients."
"Send the squeamish ones to Jamison," I said.
"Raise an ancestor from the dead. He's under a family curse. A witch told him if he could talk to the ancestor that the curse originated with, she might be able to lift it."
"Why double the fee?"
"The curse started with one of two brothers. He doesn't know which one."
"So I have to raise them both."
"If we're lucky, only one."
"But you keep the second fee anyway," I said.
Bert nodded vigorously, happy as a greedy clam. "It's even your job description, and besides, even you wouldn't let a fellow go through his life with feathers on his head if you could help him, now would you?"
"You smug bastard," I said, but my voice sounded tired even to me.
Bert just smiled. He knew he'd won.
"You'll clear clients with me that aren't zombie raisings or vampire slayings?" I said.
"If you have the time to read up on every client I see, then I certainly have time to write up a report."
"I don't need to read about every client, just the ones you're sending my way."
"But, Anita, you know it's just luck of the draw which of you is on duty on any given day."
"Damn you, Bert."
"You've kept Ms. Drew waiting long enough, don't you think?"
I stood up. It was no use. I was outmaneuvered. He knew it. I knew it. The only thing left was a graceful retreat.
"Your two o'clock canceled. I'll have Mary send Gunderson in."
"Is there anything you wouldn't schedule in as a client, Bert?"
He seemed to think about that for a minute, then shook his head. "If they could pay the fee, no."
"You are a greedy son of a bitch."
"I know."
It was no use. I wasn't winning this one. I went for the door.
"You're wearing a gun." He sounded outraged.
"Yeah, what of it?"
"I think you can meet clients in broad daylight at our offices without being armed."
"I don't think so."
"Just put the gun in the desk drawer like you used to."
"Nope." I opened the door.
"I don't want you meeting clients armed, Anita."
"Your problem, not mine."
"I could make it yours," he said. His face was flushed, voice tight with anger. Maybe we were going to get to fight after all.
I closed the door. "You mean fire me?"
"I am your boss."
"We can argue about clients, but the gun is not negotiable."
"The gun frightens clients."
"Send the squeamish ones to Jamison," I said.