Callahan's Place 09 - Callahan's Con (v5.0) Read Online Free

just had time to bray, “Hey, I’m walkin’ here— I’m walkin’, here —” before Ludnyola tripped over him.   Ludnyola’s brain was lagging three or four crises behind and her reflexes had done all they could; she would have gone down and landed heavily on that infinitely fragile little animal.   But Ralph von Wau Wau roared, and reared up on his hind legs, and suddenly all the frenzied high speed activity congealed into a static tableau.
    Ralph and Field Inspector Czrjghnczl appeared to be dancing.   A new dance, one I felt definitely had possibilities.   Her arms hung limp at her sides, and Ralph was holding her up by the tits.
    She stared, from Ralph down to her chest and back up to Ralph, whose muzzle panted and drooled slightly a few inches from her face.   Her brain caught up, or perhaps only her reflexes.   She screamed, pushed Ralph violently away, and sprang backward.
    Most of us started yelling, but of course the more we yelled the more determined she became to keep on back-pedaling.   And she had only been about twelve steps from the pool to start with.
    It will be very bad, I thought, if she falls in the pool .
    She stopped on the eleventh step, and planted her feet firmly, oblivious to the water just behind her.   By now her brain had definitely caught up, and overruled the reflexes.   A civil servant never retreats, no matter what.   Not even if it is the only sane thing to do.   The hounds of Hell can always be slapped with a subpoena or threatened with a seven-year audit.   I could see her using fire-extinguisher blasts of anger to smother her fear.   She took a deep breath, raised her voice, as if she didn’t already have anyone’s attention, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I require your cooperation.   Are either of the parents of Erin Stonebender-Berkowitz here present?”
    Gee , this was not going well.
    I was out of wiggle room.   Outright lying would only make things worse.   Time to cop.   “I’m Jake Stonebender.”
    Her target radar locked onto me.   “I see.   Is your wife present?”
    “Uh, no, she’s at a rehearsal.”
    Somewhere on her console a red light came on.   “She is an actress?”
    I hastened to deny the slander.   “A musician.”
    I could tell from her expression I had added another amber light and a warning buzzer.   “I see.”
    I was wishing I’d thought to lie.   Now she was going to ask what instrument, and I was going to have to say bass.   Bureaucrats are not likely to be impressed by bass players.   Perhaps you’ve heard the one about the difference between a bass player and a large pepperoni pizza?   The pizza can feed a family of four.   I wondered if I could phrase it so as to imply that Zoey bowed a bass, for a symphony orchestra.   Would Field Inspector Czrjghnczl know Key West has no symphony?   Maybe I should—
    “And where is Erin herself now?”
    Cerebral meltdown.  
    “   ,” I said, not very loudly.   How could I have not anticipated this question?
    “She is nearby, I presume?”
    “Ye-e-es,” I agreed cautiously, crossing my fingers hard enough to raise bruises.   In a certain sense, Erin is always nearby.   And it would not be good to admit that I had no clear idea where—or even when—she was, and that she could easily be thousands of miles away…or for that matter, thousands of years .   This woman believed, as an article of faith, that anyone Erin’s age was by definition a PINS, a person in need of supervision, and that it was my responsibility to keep tabs on the kid every second.
    “Pursuing some sort of educational project, at this time of day, no doubt?” she said skeptically.
    Here I was on less shaky ground.   “Absolutely.   Anthropological research.”
    “Fetch her, please.”
    “Look,” I said desperately, “I don’t see any need to—”
    “Kindly produce her at once,” the Field Inspector said.   “If in fact you can.”
    A couple of people went woooo .   She had