rangers. “What’s going on here?”
Killegrew moved swiftly to the two men, putting a hand
on each of their shoulders. “Frank Killegrew, president and
CEO of OTIOSE. By God, I’m glad to see you! This woman
is a crazed customer who thinks that Martians have invaded
her telephone system. It happens all the time. Take her away,
boys!”
The taller officer, whose name tag read “R. Westervelt,”
stared at Judith. “Who are you?” Westervelt asked.
“Judith Flynn, the caterer. But I…”
“The caterer!” Killegrew roared with laughter. “You
see—these people will use any excuse to come after the phone
company! My God, we’ve been a target of every crank and
crackpot for years! If your life is all screwed up and you’re
playing with a half a deck, go after the phone company! It’s
an easy target, we’re under government scrutiny! Would you
like to see our nut file? It’s full of people like her!”
Westervelt turned to his partner, a square-built young man
with crinkly red hair. “Nunnally, we’ve got a situation.”
Nunnally nodded. “Didn’t somebody mention bodies?”
Returning his gun to its holster, Westervelt looked at Judith. “On the phone, someone referred to possible homicides.
Where are the victims?”
“All over the…” Judith began, but was interrupted by Killegrew.
“Victims? Now, now,” he bellowed, shaking a finger at
Judith who was trying to peer into the hall in hopes of
catching sight of Renie, “that’s an exaggeration, isn’t it?
We’ve had a couple of nasty accidents. Look, fellows,” he
continued, putting an arm around each of the officers, “you
don’t have to get mixed up in this. I’ve already got a call in
to the chief of police in town. He’s flying back from Hawaii,
and he’ll get everything straightened out. We may be on
your turf, but it isn’t really your responsibility. Why make
trouble for yourselves? Eh?” He gave each of the officers a
nudge.
“Well…” Westervelt looked again at Nunnally. “This
our jurisdiction.”
“So?” Killegrew seemed amused. “You’re in the business
of stolen skis and drunken picnickers and people who pick
wildflowers and attacks by bad-tempered bears. This is phone
company business, big city stuff, and we’ll sort it out with
the chief.” Killegrew winked. “He’s a pal—know what I
mean?”
Westervelt’s long face was a mask of uncertainty.
“That’s…fine, but we still need to check out any complaints…”
“Complaints!” Killegrew threw his head back and roared
with laughter. “That’s it! Complaints! You can’t get half as
many as I do! See here, fellows, we’ll turn this poor soul
over to our p.r. vice president and get everything squared
