you should show Damien around the city,” Slayter said.
“Let me check my calendar, Uncle Ed.”
“I checked your calendar. You’re free. I’ll have Evelyn send you his information.”
Sadly, Edward knows I have no social life and can generally be relied on for such
things as retrieving indebted gambling addicts, taking navigational consultants sweater
shopping, and playing tour guide to satanic lawyers. It wasn’t so long ago that I
had a life and my availability wasn’t a foregone conclusion.
I could see Charlie Black through the glass door staring at his digital watch. He
was clearly timing his entrance for the exact moment Edward had told him to arrive.
At exactly one fifteen P.M . Charlie entered the office.
“Timely as usual,” Edward said.
“Good afternoon,” Charlie said. “I’m ready whenever you are, Isabel.”
I turned to Damien and said, “I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock. Show you some of
the places I like. If you mention Fisherman’s Wharf once, I will have you beheaded.”
“She won’t,” Charlie said, as if it were a legitimate threat.
“Got it,” Damien said with a smirk.
Damien looked at Charlie and Charlie at Damien. It soon became evident that avoiding
an introduction would appear rude. Edward stammered a bit as he said, “I suppose introductions
are required. Damien, this is Charlie. Charlie, Damien.”
The two men shook hands, but I could tell that Damien was looking for a job title
and, well, giving him the real job title might have been unwise.
“Charlie is Edward’s valet.”
“Nice to meet you,” Damien said, seeming perplexed. Even the lowest-rent valet probably
doesn’t smell or dress like Charlie. No offense, Charlie. 7
“I’m his valet,” Charlie repeated, which he does whenever he knows I’m lying and I
want him to play along. Once he contradicted me in front of anacquaintance and I explained my take on harmless lying to Charlie and how it was at
times a necessity, and I asked for his backup when the occasion arose. Charlie agreed
so long as he wasn’t lying to his boss, Mr. Slayter. I accepted his terms.
“Does anyone want some tea?” Charlie asked, because that’s what valets do. They serve
tea and take your coat, but no one was wearing the kind of coat you took.
“I’m good,” I said.
“No, thank you, Charlie,” Slayter said.
“Well,” Damien said through a thicket of awkwardness, “I’ll get back to work.”
After Damien left, I turned to Slayter and said, “Polka, foghorn, shank, and that’s
shank in the prison-weapon sense, not lamb shank.”
“For our purposes, it doesn’t make a difference,” Edward said. “Polka, foghorn, shank.”
“Before we go, I need to talk to you about Divine Strategies. I’ve got something,”
I said.
“Have a seat, Charlie,” Edward said.
As far as I could tell, Edward’s trust in Charlie was implicit. He had not once in
the last five months ever asked him to excuse himself, no matter what the context
of the conversation. There are few things you can count on in this world. Charlie
is one of them.
“My mother found an unfiled sexual harassment complaint against two of the executives
at Divine Strategies. The employee is no longer there. I contacted her, but she won’t
talk.”
“One sexual harassment complaint,” Edward said. “Is it possible that it was unfounded
and the company paid her off to avoid a lawsuit?”
“It’s very possible,” I said. “In fact, it happens all the time. But I spoke to the
complainant and I got the impression she was paid off and signed a gag order.”
“And this is the only red flag?”
“Aside from the fact that they make a product called HolyBooks?”
“I repeat, is it the only red flag?”
“It’s the only complaint that we found. There could be others who got hushed. There
is only so much you can learn about a company through a paper trail.”
“Indeed.”
Slayter sat behind his
“Let me check my calendar, Uncle Ed.”
“I checked your calendar. You’re free. I’ll have Evelyn send you his information.”
Sadly, Edward knows I have no social life and can generally be relied on for such
things as retrieving indebted gambling addicts, taking navigational consultants sweater
shopping, and playing tour guide to satanic lawyers. It wasn’t so long ago that I
had a life and my availability wasn’t a foregone conclusion.
I could see Charlie Black through the glass door staring at his digital watch. He
was clearly timing his entrance for the exact moment Edward had told him to arrive.
At exactly one fifteen P.M . Charlie entered the office.
“Timely as usual,” Edward said.
“Good afternoon,” Charlie said. “I’m ready whenever you are, Isabel.”
I turned to Damien and said, “I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock. Show you some of
the places I like. If you mention Fisherman’s Wharf once, I will have you beheaded.”
“She won’t,” Charlie said, as if it were a legitimate threat.
“Got it,” Damien said with a smirk.
Damien looked at Charlie and Charlie at Damien. It soon became evident that avoiding
an introduction would appear rude. Edward stammered a bit as he said, “I suppose introductions
are required. Damien, this is Charlie. Charlie, Damien.”
The two men shook hands, but I could tell that Damien was looking for a job title
and, well, giving him the real job title might have been unwise.
“Charlie is Edward’s valet.”
“Nice to meet you,” Damien said, seeming perplexed. Even the lowest-rent valet probably
doesn’t smell or dress like Charlie. No offense, Charlie. 7
“I’m his valet,” Charlie repeated, which he does whenever he knows I’m lying and I
want him to play along. Once he contradicted me in front of anacquaintance and I explained my take on harmless lying to Charlie and how it was at
times a necessity, and I asked for his backup when the occasion arose. Charlie agreed
so long as he wasn’t lying to his boss, Mr. Slayter. I accepted his terms.
“Does anyone want some tea?” Charlie asked, because that’s what valets do. They serve
tea and take your coat, but no one was wearing the kind of coat you took.
“I’m good,” I said.
“No, thank you, Charlie,” Slayter said.
“Well,” Damien said through a thicket of awkwardness, “I’ll get back to work.”
After Damien left, I turned to Slayter and said, “Polka, foghorn, shank, and that’s
shank in the prison-weapon sense, not lamb shank.”
“For our purposes, it doesn’t make a difference,” Edward said. “Polka, foghorn, shank.”
“Before we go, I need to talk to you about Divine Strategies. I’ve got something,”
I said.
“Have a seat, Charlie,” Edward said.
As far as I could tell, Edward’s trust in Charlie was implicit. He had not once in
the last five months ever asked him to excuse himself, no matter what the context
of the conversation. There are few things you can count on in this world. Charlie
is one of them.
“My mother found an unfiled sexual harassment complaint against two of the executives
at Divine Strategies. The employee is no longer there. I contacted her, but she won’t
talk.”
“One sexual harassment complaint,” Edward said. “Is it possible that it was unfounded
and the company paid her off to avoid a lawsuit?”
“It’s very possible,” I said. “In fact, it happens all the time. But I spoke to the
complainant and I got the impression she was paid off and signed a gag order.”
“And this is the only red flag?”
“Aside from the fact that they make a product called HolyBooks?”
“I repeat, is it the only red flag?”
“It’s the only complaint that we found. There could be others who got hushed. There
is only so much you can learn about a company through a paper trail.”
“Indeed.”
Slayter sat behind his
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