Too Darn Hot by Sandra Scoppettone

hobbies?”
    “He collected stamps when he was a boy,” Mr. L. said. “He hasn’t done that for years. And no. I can’t think of any other hobbies Charles was interested in. But you might want to talk to George Cummings, the other gentleman you said was with him last Friday night. He might know things we don’t.”
    “What kinds of things, William?” She seemed alarmed.
    Nobody was eating the hors d’oeuvres. What a waste.
    “Jennifer, a boy doesn’t tell his mother everything.”
    She downed her drink then reached for a little cracker with a spread on it. Finally she offered the platter to me.
    “Thanks, I believe I will.” I bagged a shrimp thing. “I’ve already met with Mr. Cummings.”
    “What did he say?” she asked.
    “He couldn’t help me cause he didn’t see Charlie often.”
    “Poor George,” she said. “His eyes.”
    “Yeah, too bad.” I wanted another shrimp, but didn’t dare reach for one. I drank instead.
    I didn’t think the Ladds were gonna cough up anything else useful, so I told them I’d be in touch.
    Waiting for the elevator, I thought about that business of asking what kind of name Quick was. And their not-so-subtle feelings about Jews.
    I didn’t think either of them was keeping any serious jelly from me. They didn’t want to face the possibility of where Charlie might be and if they’d ever see him again. Who would?

TEN
    I
could hear Ma Bell calling to me as I tried to get the key in my door. The harder I tried the worse it got. I thought it might be Johnny. I told myself it was only a phone call and that he’d call back.
    Finally I turned the lock, opened up, almost tripped over Zachary, who gave me a greeting howl, and shut the door so he wouldn’t get out. I ran to the phone and grabbed the receiver.
    “Yeah? Hello?”
    “What’s with ya, Faye? Ya sound like ya been runnin up Mount Everest.”
    Birdie. “I had trouble gettin in, that’s all.”
    “Yeah. You’ve been out.”
    “No kiddin.”
    “I’ve been tryin ya for hours, fresh mouth.”
    “Sorry.” I sat down and Zachary jumped into my lap. I knew it wasn’t cause he’d missed me. It was about food. He’d have to wait, but I scratched him around the ears. “So what is it, Bird?”
    “Claire Turner called about five o’clock soundin crazy.”
    “Crazy?”
    “More hysterical than crazy, I guess.”
    “And?”
    “She wanted ya to call her soon as ya could.”
    “Didn’t say what it was about?”
    “They don’t tell me secret stuff like that, Faye.”
    “That’s a secret, tellin ya what she wanted?”
    “Lemme put it to ya this way. I asked and she said she couldn’t yak about it with
me.
She needed you chop chop.”
    “Don’t be hurt, Bird.”
    “Who’s hurt? Ya think I wanna know about their dirty laundry?”
    Yeah, I did. I let it go. “I have her number in my pocketbook, but gimme it anyway.”
    She did.
    “Any other calls?”
    “If there was, I woulda told ya.”
    “Right. Sorry. Why don’t ya go home now.”
    “I
am
home. I’m making pork chops.”
    “Oh, yeah. For Pete.”
    “For Pete, yeah.”
    “Hope ya have fun, Bird. And I’ll see ya Monday.”
    “Goodbye,” she said.
    Was she mad at me? She was never formal like that. I hoped she wasn’t gonna quit. I couldn’t run the agency without Birdie Ritter. Sure, I could always get another secretary, but not like her. The sugar shortage made it hard to find a box of candy. I’d have to think of something else to take her on Monday.
    I was planning to go to Claire’s anyway, to get the picture of Charlie Ladd. She knew that. What could be so important? I dialed. She picked up on half a ring.
    “Oh, thank God it’s you.”
    “What’s goin on?”
    “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone.”
    Why did they always say that? “Could ya please come here.”
    “Sure. I was plannin to, remember?”
    “I forgot. The picture.”
    “Yeah.”
    “This is nothin to be sneezed at, Faye.”
    “Okay, I’ll be