worth a shot. I debate making an appointment and approaching Deborah that way, but at the last minute I decide it will be better to use the same “official” approach I used on Molinaro. After calling the salon where Deborah works and discovering that she will be there until seven that evening, I tell her what I want and arrange to meet her at the end of her shift.
I spend another hour or so in the library studying up on my new profession and then wander upstairs to see what Arnie is up to. I find him in his office but he isn’t alone. In the middle of the room stands a giant of a man with a surprisingly baby face. His crew-cut hair nearly brushes the ceiling, his feet are the size of a Sasquatch, and his neck looks as big around as a tree trunk. I figure he weighs at least 350, maybe more, although he doesn’t look fat so much as he simply looks huge.
When Arnie sees me, he lets forth with a low whistle. “Wow,” he says. “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks,” I say, glowing. He continues to stare at me longer than is comfortable and I realize the big man is gawking at me as well. I make a self-conscious swipe at my nose, suddenly worried I might have a booger hanging there or something.
Arnie finally breaks the tension by introducing me to his visitor. “Joey Dewhurst, this is Mattie Winston, Izzy’s new assistant.”
Joey thrusts a paw as big as my head at me and says, “Hi. Nice to meet you.” I brace myself as I place my hand in his, fearing a bone-crushing grip or, at the least, to have my arm shaken out of its socket. But he surprises me. His shake is firm but gentle, with very little motion. The smile he gives me is dazzling.
“Nice to meet you, too, Joey.”
“Joey works as a field technician for a local computer company,” Arnie explains. “He goes out and troubleshoots whenever clients have a problem. He’s been doing it for…what’s it been now, Joey? About ten years?”
“Eleven,” Joey says proudly. He continues to stare at me with that unblinking gaze for several seconds, then says, “Wow. You’re big for a girl.”
“Pardon me?” My smile dissolves, as does the glow I was feeling on the heels of Arnie’s whistling praise.
Joey’s face morphs into a horrified expression. “Oh, geez…I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I didn’t mean anything bad. It’s just that most girls make my neck hurt when I try to look at them. I’m pretty big, you know,” he says, totally deadpan.
He’s big, all right. Huge. And intimidating. Yet despite his size, there is something sweet about him, a bumbling innocence that charms me. “No offense taken,” I say. “You’re right. I am big for a girl.”
The smile he flashes at me is so brilliant it’s almost blinding. “It’s hard to be big,” he says. “My clothes don’t fit good, cars are too small, and sometimes I scare little kids, even though I don’t mean to.”
“Can’t say I’ve scared any kids, but I can relate to the rest of it,” I tell him.
He cocks his head to the side. “I’d love to have a girlfriend as big as you,” he says wistfully.
I smile, not sure if I should feel flattered or insulted.
Arnie clears his throat. “Joey, you don’t want to be late for your next appointment.”
“Oh.” Joey glances at his watch. “Yeah, okay. I should get going.” He flashes his megawatt smile again and blushes sweetly. “It was very nice meeting you, Mattie.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Joey.”
“Bye, Arnie.”
“See ya later, Joey.”
He moves with amazing grace considering his size. As I watch him leave, I notice a wide rectangular piece of red material hanging from beneath his shirt, the end reaching halfway to his knees. It’s odd-looking to say the least and as soon as he is out of sight, I look over at Arnie, my eyebrows raised in question.
“Don’t worry, he’s harmless,” he says. “Sweetest guy you’ll ever meet. He suffered some sort of brain damage at birth and as a result he’s mildly retarded and has a few odd quirks.”
“Like a total lack of sartorial sense?” I ask.
Arnie looks puzzled.
“I’m referring to that huge piece of red material that was hanging out from under his shirt.”
Arnie smiles. “Oh, that. That was his cape. You see, Joey is an idiot savant. Despite his overall mental limitations, he has this incredible ability when it comes to computers. He can take them apart, put ’em back together, or even build them from scratch. He can write programs and troubleshoot existing ones. And his hacking abilities are absolutely amazing. He’s quite proud of what he does and thinks of himself as a kind of superhero. He has this little red outfit he wears under his everyday clothes that’s part of his alter ego. He’s Hacker Man. He even has a big yellow letter
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. He can get into any computer anywhere anytime,” Arnie says, misunderstanding the genesis of my sarcasm. “He’s dug up stuff that will blow your mind.”
“Like what?”
“Like the two dozen or so people that Clinton had contact with who turned up dead under the most mysterious of circumstances. Or the fact that our government routinely runs tests on the populace without our knowledge. Or the CIA document that talks about remote viewing and mind control. That kind of stuff.”
I don’t know what to say. I like Arnie, but his conspiracy theory mentality is starting to wear a bit thin.
“I think he has a crush on you,” he says then.
“What?” I blurt out, startled by the quick change of subject. “Who? Joey?”
“No, Clinton,” Arnie says, rolling his eyes. “Of course, I mean Joey. Didn’t you see the way he was looking at you? And the way he blushed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction.
“You’ll see,” Arnie says. “I’m pretty sure Joey’s got it bad for you. Something tells me you’ll be seeing a lot more of him in the days to come.”
Arnie is right. I do see more of Joey. In fact, I see him later that same night as I am getting out of my car at Shear Indulgence, the hair salon where Deborah works. The place is fairly crowded when I arrive and one of the customers just happens to be Joey, who is paying for his haircut and preparing to leave. Deborah is finishing up with a customer and says she’ll be with me in a minute, so I have no reasonable excuse for escaping Joey’s doe- eyed stare and blushing cheeks.
“Hey, Joey,” I say when he sees me. “Fancy meeting you again.”
“Hi, Mattie. You’re not getting your hair done, are you, because you don’t need to. It’s very pretty already.” His face takes on an “Aw, shucks” expression and he drops his gaze to the floor, where he starts drawing imaginary lines with the toe of his shoe.
“Thank you. But I’m just here to meet someone.”
He peers at me from beneath lowered lids and as soon as he sees that I’m watching him, his gaze falls again. “You are very pretty, Mattie,” he says in a low whisper. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, I don’t. But I don’t want one right now,” I add quickly, lest Joey get the wrong idea. “I’m going through a divorce.”
“Oh. Okay,” he says. “Well…I gotta go. Bye.”
He turns and ducks as he goes through the door to keep from hitting his head. I note that the red cape is no longer showing and wonder if he’s taken it off or if it’s merely tucked away inside his outer clothing. As soon as he’s outside he begins to whistle and then he starts skipping. The incongruity of that huge hulk of human flesh skipping along like a child makes me smile.
“You ready?” asks a voice behind me. I turn and find Deborah standing there with her jacket on, her purse slung over one shoulder. I follow her through the salon to a back door, the stench of her perfume wafting along behind her, mixing with the acrid scent of permanent solution and hair bleach. By the time we reach the alley behind the store, my eyes are burning and I have an instant, throbbing headache.
“So you work for the medical examiner now, huh?” Deborah asks me once the door closes behind us.
“I do.” I show her my badge and she glances at it, clearly unimpressed.
“Interesting change of jobs. What made you decide to switch?” She is rummaging around in her purse and finally extracts a bent pack of cigarettes.
