The Fala Factor

thick lenses he heard me and cupped the cigar in his palm.

Coughing and choking, he bolted out of the chair.

“It’s … you … for God’s sake … for chrissake Toby. I thought it was the inspectors. You could give a man. “He returned his cigar to his mouth, still coughing and pushing his glasses back on his nose.”

“I thought they were coming tomorrow,” I said, heading for my office.

“They like to fool you,” he said with a wry smile “You know, come in a day early or a day late. But I’ll be ready. How do you like the place?”

“Depressing,” I said. “I liked it better the old way.”

“Mildred likes it better this way,” Shelly said defiantly.

“Then Mildred can come down and work in it. I think I’ll move out.” The words came out before I had a sense that they were coming.

“Out?” Shelly choked. “You wouldn’t. We’re friends. Who would I get to rent that closet?”

“Why is my name off the door?” I said through my teeth.

“I’ll put it back on as soon as the inspection is over,” he said, looking to heaven for help with my unbending position.

“You’ve got three days,” I said. “Three days. It goes back on or I move out. And if this hands-off-the-walls stuff continues, out I go.”

“You’re threatening an old friend,” Shelly said sadly, flipping the pages of his magazine.

“I’m threatening you,” I said “That’s not quite the same thing.”

“I was going to ask you a favor,” Shelly said. “But with your present attitude …”

He paused, waiting for me to ask him what the favor was. I didn’t ask.

“I was thinking that when the inspector came you could pretend to be a patient. You know, sit in the chair, let me clean your teeth, take an X ray.”

I laughed. The laugh hurt my ribs.

“Anyone who lets you x-ray his mouth with that left-over prop from Metropolis deserves the fate that awaits him.”

“Never mind,” he said, shoving his face into the magazine. “Just forget it. You’ll get your name back on the door. And in case you’re interested, you’ve got a visitor.”

The visitor was Cawelti, who was looking at the photograph of me, my dad, Phil, and the dog. Cawelti’s hands were behind his back.

“Nice family portrait,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk to you, fireman,” I said, getting behind my desk and biting my lower lip to keep from showing the pain in my aching ribs. My feet kicked something under my desk. Shelly had put the coffee pot, cups, and various pieces of junk and magazines in a box and shoved them there. I kicked them and the rattling turned Cawelti’s head toward me.

“Seidman’s doing better,” he said, pulling out the visitor’s chair and sitting on it after turning it around. I hated people who did that. It would have been nice if the damned chair collapsed, but it didn’t. “No thanks to your friend out there.”

“Shelly would be happy to work on you for nothing,” I said. “You got business with me, fireman, or is this social chitchat? Should I send out for coffee and cookies?”

“Jane Poslik is missing,” he said. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”

He leaned forward, his arms on the top of the chair, his head resting on his hands. I could see where he had cut his face shaving that morning.

“You cut yourself shaving,” I said.

His hand inadvertently shot up to touch his chin and then backed down. His face went bright red.

“Jane Poslik, prick,” he said, clenching his teeth.

“I don’t think she’s got one,” I said back through my clenched teeth.

“You think you’re funny,” said Cawelti, standing and pushing the chair into the corner.

Shelly’s voice came through the door in a petulant whine.

“Hold it down in there, will you? There’s a doctor at work out here. Inspectors could be coming in any time now.”

“Shut up, you hack,” Cawelti shouted back.

“That’s quack,” Shelly shot back. “Im a quack, not a hack. Get your insults straight at least in there.”

“He’s right,” I agreed. “He is a quack.” Then I whispered to Cawelti. “I’d say you get half credit for your answer Any more questions?”

Cawelti’s hand came across the desk toward my neck, but I was ready for him. I came up with the coffee pot in my hand and swiped at his advancing arm. I caught him at the elbow.

“You son of a bitch,” he yelped, jumping back holding his arm.

“I’ll be sure to tell my brother what you called our mother the next time I see him,” I said, still holding the coffee pot like a hammer.

He turned and left, slamming the door behind him. In the outer office I could hear Shelly say, “Hey, try to stay away from here a few days, will you? I’ve got some classy people coming through. Hey, hey, what are you-” The door slammed and Cawelti was gone.

“Some caliber of people you’ve got coming to see you, Toby,” he shouted at me. “Spitting on the floor. My patients don’t even do that.”

I put the coffee pot back in the cardboard box under my desk, pulled the box out. and carried it into Shelly s office. He was settled in his chair, the LA. Times covering his face.

“Where the hell is Madagascar?” he said from behind the open paper. A puff of smoke popped over the back page.

“A French island, I think. Somewhere near Africa.” I said, walking toward him slowly.

“British occupied it over the weekend,” he said. “About time our side occupied something instead of moving out of somewhere.”

Shelly was still behind his newspaper as he flipped the pages.

“Mildred and I didn’t get away over the weekend,” he said. “We were in here cleaning up, but I think we’ll take in The Man Who Came to Dinner over at the Bliss-Hayden Theater. You know, a reward for passing the inspection. Right here Katherine Van Blau says Doris Day as Maggie the secretary ‘proved herself to be an actress of scope and fine sincerity.’ You think that’s the same Doris Day who stole Cal Applebaum’s mother’s candleholders? Couldn’t be. She wouldn’t come back here with the same-”

I dropped the carton on the floor and cut off Shelly’s babbling. The newspaper came down and Shelly’s eyes focused on the floor as an ash fell on his recently washed white jacket.

“What the hell?” he said. “Toby. I can’t have that stuff in here with the inspection.”

“Find another place for it Take it home. Put it in the trunk of your car. Put it out in the hall. Someone will steal it within five minutes. I don’t care where you put it, but not in my office.”

“You don’t plan on cooperating with me on this crisis, do you?” he said, nodding his head knowingly, a man who finally recognizes betrayal.

“You’re beginning to understand that, are you?”

“All right. All right. Just leave it there. I’ll take care of it,” he said, looking down at the carton. “Just go on with whatever you were doing. It doesn’t matter that I might lose my license, that I might not be able to help all those people out there who rely on me.”

“Like Steve Seidman,” I said. “You could at least go see him in the hospital or call.”

“Me?” Shelly said, putting his newspaper aside and pointing to his chest. “I didn’t do anything to him. If he has an infection or something, it’s because …”

“Good-bye Shel,” I said sweetly and left the office.

I had a hard time finding Jeremy. He wasn’t in his office. He wasn’t in the elevator recleaning the mirror. He wasn’t Lysoling the stairs or polishing the name plates in the lobby. I went back up to Alice Palice’s “suite” and found him there. Alice’s suite consisted of much the same space Shelly occupied two floors above. In the center of the main room was a large oak dining room table. On the table was Alice’s printing press. Surrounding the printing press were cans of ink, towels, and stacks of paper. In fact the room was a mess filled with paper and books. It looked like moving day on the Island of Yap just before the invasion. The smell of ink hit hard and not unpleasantly.