Love Her Madly by Mary-Ann Tirone Smith Page B

here?”
    â€œMy job.”
    â€œWhat job is that?”
    â€œThe job to see this execution through. To see that chaos doesn’t break out. But if it does, we want you to know that there is someone on the scene you can turn to.”
    My, my. “Come on in.”
    I invited him to sit down. He took the chair. I took the edge of the bed.
    I asked him, “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
    â€œI’m talkin’ about this. Every day, more and more people are turnin’ up to support Rona Leigh. She’s becoming some kind of holy martyr. Now, turns out, we got a big-time FBI agent in town who could maybe give them the hope they need to cause us some serious trouble. But you’re doin’ your job and that’s that. If trouble breaks, you need a cop? You come to me. If some other trouble of a more personal nature gets aimed your way? Trouble from people who don’t like the thought of Rona Leigh bein’ a martyr, embarrassin’ people? I want you to know we will be happy to be of assistance, ma’am.”
    He stood up. He touched the brim of the Stetson. “You need a cop for any reason whatsoever, come to me.”
    I suppose I might have told him to watch the tires of my car. But instead I thanked him and he left.
    I could see that I’d reached a point in my day where I needed to talk to a familiar voice. So I called my assistant. It was quarter to five, her time.
    â€œYou checkin’ on me, boss?”
    â€œIf I were, I’d be calling twenty minutes from now. The day you answer the phone at five after five, I’ll know it’s time for me to race back there and take your temperature.”
    My assistant’s name is Delby Jones. When I interviewed her I asked her why the name on her social security card was not Delby Jones. She said, “You were actually the first to notice.”
    She made up the name, she said, when she was a singer. She left the band because that line of work wouldn’t pay for Pampers and the complete works of Dr. Seuss. The name Delby Jones had grown on her.
    I liked that. Imaginative way to clear the past out of your system while still holding on to the dream.
    In addition, Delby has great reasoning skills and can keep a boss, an office, and herself finely organized. Mostly, she doesn’t miss a trick. Impeccable instincts. So in the end, her terms were worth it. Her terms meant she’d pick up her girls at our day care every day at one minute past five. And besides the five o’clock thing, at one minute before noon, she leaves to have lunch with them. Once, the President was in my office and so was she. She cleared her throat to serve me notice that it was the children’s lunchtime. The President ended up going to the day care center with her. Like me, he knows that the value of devotion is much more visceral than loyalty. So off he went with Delby while the Secret Service scrambled into formation and followed. I was left with a couple of technicians staring at their backs. After lunch, the President said to me, “I forgot how good a peanut butter and jelly sandwich can be.” Delby told me he’d left his carrot sticks on the plate just like all the kids.
    Now, on the phone, she said, “You want to know something fast, right?”
    â€œI do. But first, real quick, did that fabric sample I gave you, let’s see…”—I looked at the notes on my computer screen—“number eight-four-two, did it come back?”
    â€œâ€™Course it did. You’d be here kickin’ ass for a week if it didn’t.”
    â€œSo what was that stuff?”
    I heard her clicking away at her own computer. By the time I’d finished the question, she had the answer. She’s like that guy Radar on M*A*S*H.
    â€œLet’s see. We got mostly sugar, gelatin, fumaric acid, an artificial flavoring agent, disodium phosphate, sodium citrate, couple of coloring