“Sworn duty,” I said, “as a member of the dork patrol.”
“You needled him because he ignored me.”
“That’s one of the defining characteristics of a dork.”
“Probably,” Susan said.
We rode the rest of the way to the top, where the light, filtered through the glass, looked warmer than it was, and went out into the cold behind Salzman and Nogarian.
Chapter 2
“I’ve got to have lunch with some people from the film commission,” Nogarian said. “Sandy can fill you in on our situation.” We shook hands and he headed down Winter Street toward LockeOber’s.
“We’re feeding in the basement over here near Tremont Temple,” Salzman said. “I’ve asked Jill to join us.”
We went across Tremont Street and in through a glass door into a corridor and down some stairs. At the bottom was a large basement room that looked as if it might be a recreational space for a boys’ club or a church group. There was a serving counter set up along one side, and tables with folding chairs filled the room. The crew was spread out, down parkas hanging from chair backs, down vests tossed on the floor, hunched over trays eating. There was roast turkey with gravy, baked ham with pineapple, cold cuts, cheese, two kinds of tossed salad, succotash, mashed potatoes, green beans with bacon, and baked haddock with a cheese sauce. I noticed that the official crew meal was some of everything. Salzman had some ham and some haddock and a large helping of mashed potatoes. I was watching Susan. Her normal lunch was something like a lettuce leaf, dressing on the side. She carefully walked the length of the serving table and studied her options. I waited for her. When she was through she came back and picked up a tray.
“What do you think,” I said.
“Eek,” she said. She put plastic utensils on her tray and had a large serving of tossed salad with no dressing on a paper plate. I had some turkey.
Salzman had saved us a table in the corner, with space reserved for Jill Joyce when she arrived. Most of the tables seated twelve. This was the only small one.
“So what do you know about the deal here,” Salzman said when we were seated.
“I know Susan’s working for you as a technical adviser on this show, which is about a woman shrink and her husband who’s a cop.”
“Right,” Salzman said. “You seen the show?”
“No,” I said.
“Premise is ridiculous,” Susan said.
“Right,” I said. “How could a sophisticated psychotherapist fall for the kind of semi-thug that gets to be a cop?”
“Semi?” Susan said.
Salzman said, “Yeah, anyway. We got Jill Joyce to star. I assume I don’t need to tell you about Jill Joyce. ”
“I know about the screen persona,” I said. “Beautiful, wholesome, just kookie enough for a little wrinkled-nose fun?”
“Yeah,” Salzman said. “She’s a little different, in fact.”
“Un huh.”
“Anyway, she’s been getting a series of harassing phone calls and things happening to her lately, and it’s making her nervous. When Jill’s nervous…” Salzman shrugged, raised his eyebrows, and shook his head slightly.
“What do you mean, sort of harassing?” I said.
“Hard to say exactly what it is. Jill’s not too clear on it. She’s clear that it’s bothering her.”
“And the things happening to her?” I said.
Salzman shrugged. “Things.” He turned a palm up. “That’s what Jill says, things.”
“Anybody else heard these calls or seen these things?”
Salzman shook his head. I looked at Susan. She shrugged.
“So Jill’s, ah, demanding some action,” Salzman said. “And Susan mentioned that she had a friend and one thing and another so I suggested you come over and have lunch and meet Jill. See if maybe you can help us out.”
“Would I be working for you?” I said.
“Not technically.”
“Who would I be working for technically?” I said.
“Michael J. Maschio,” Sandy said.
“Who is?”
“President of Zenith Meridien Television, a subsidiary of Zenith Meridien Film Corporation.”
“Not Riggs,” I said.
