“May I ask what you think you might come up with?”
“What about a signed confession?”
“That’ll do nicely,” said Artie Wu.
Thirty-six
The three of them were following the Salvadoran housekeeper and the flop-cared rabbit up the stairs to Ione Gamble’s office when the 7-year-old shepherd-Labrador began its charge.
Otherguy Overby, bringing up the rear, turned just in time for eighty-two pounds of dog to spring and slam into his chest. A second later Overby found himself in a sitting position on the stair’s fifth step, the shep- Lab licking his face and emitting yelps and whines of joy and delight.
Overby finally grinned, gave the dog a rough hug, pushed him away and said, “How the hell are you, Moose?” The dog replied with yet another wet lick, rested his head on Overby’s knee and gazed up at him with what seemed to be total adoration.
It was then that Ione Gamble appeared at the top of the stairs and asked Durant, “What happened?”
“Your dog just took out your new bodyguard,” said Durant and quickly introduced Gamble to Georgia Blue.
After the introduction, Gamble stared down at the back of Overby’s head and called, “Are you okay?”
Overby rose slowly, turned around even more slowly, looked up at Gamble and said, “I’m fine.”
“Godalmighty,” she said. “It’s Otherguy Overby himself.”
Overby smiled up at her—a little wanly, Durant thought— and said,
“Howya doing, Ione?”
“You’ve met, I see,” Georgia Blue said.
Ione Gamble nodded, still staring down at Overby, whose faint smile had now almost faded away. “The first time was in seventy-four,” she said. “I was eighteen and Otherguy was what—thirty-three?”
“Thirty,” Overby said.
“As I said, thirty-three, and he was going to make me a star. Well, he did get me my first job—leading an iguana by a rope over to Cal Worthington in one of those ‘My Dog, Spot’ used-car commercials.”
“You had to start somewhere,” Overby said.
“And the next time?” Georgia Blue said.
“Ten years later.”
“Eleven,” Overby said. “Eighty-five.”
“Okay. Eighty-five. I’d just bought this house and had to do a picture in London. I needed someone to house-sit and a friend recommended what she called ‘this perfectly marvelous house-sitter.’ So I said okay, send him around. Well, who shows up but Maurice Overby, House-sitter to the Stars.”
“Tell ‘em who saved the house, Ione,” Overby said.
“You did. The firemen ordered him out because a fire was sweeping up the canyon. But Otherguy stayed on the roof all night with a garden hose and nobody got hurt and nothing got burned. But when he left six weeks later, my animals pined for him so much, especially Moose here, that they’d hardly eat. The bastard had alienated their affections and I had to pay him fifty bucks every Sunday for two months just to come over and play with ‘em for an hour.”
Overby shrugged. “Animals like me.”
“If you don’t want him as bodyguard,” said Durant, “just say so.”
“How long will I need one?”
“Two or three days, if that.”
“If he stays more than three days, my animals will fall for him again.
On the other hand, Otherguy’s mean and crafty and ought to make an okay bodyguard. So let’s go on in the office and you guys can have a beer or something.” She looked back down the stairs at Overby. “You, too.”
Ione Gamble indicated the way to her office, which Durant already knew. He led the way, followed by Georgia Blue. When Overby reached the top of the stairs, trailed by Moose, Gamble looked over her left shoulder to make sure Blue and Durant were inside the office.
She then turned back to Overby and said, “You going to give me a hug or not?”
After he gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, she said,
“Why didn’t you tell them you knew me?”
“It was a long time ago, Ione.”
“Something told me to ride you a little. Was I right?”
He nodded. “As always.”
“How are you—really?”
“Couldn’t be better,” he said, and intuition told Gamble that Otherguy Overby, for once, was probably telling the truth.
