And she’d found Mr. Callahan.
She groaned as she filled out another order form. Then she thought about what she had to do at 7:00 p.m. and groaned again. She called Marla at lunch and asked if she could borrow the belly dancer’s costume.
“Why?” Marla asked.
“I don’t have time for deep questions,” Amelia grumbled. “Can I or can’t I?”
“Well…sure. He went to see you, didn’t he? I had to give him your address, you just can’t say no to him; but I thought he was going to mail you a letter….”
“I can’t tell you what it’s all about, so don’t ask.” Amelia sighed. “But Andy isn’t going to like it.”
“What is he having you do? Oh, Amelia, you can tell me, I’m your friend!”
Mr. Callahan came out of his office, saw her on the phone and glared.
“Yes, sir,” Amelia said calmly, “that’s right, our new manure spreader can handle all your requirements.”
“What?” Marla faltered.
“If you’ll get your order right in the mail…. Oh, you’re just checking on it, you don’t want to place an order at this time? But you are keeping us in mind? How nice of you, sir!”
Marla was giggling. “Mr. Callahan, I presume? See you later, darling.”
“Yes, sir, certainly. Goodbye.” Amelia hung up and gave Mr. Callahan a bright smile.
He nodded approvingly. “Nice public relations work, girl. Very nice.” He walked on by, and Amelia tried not to slide down in her chair with relief.
Of course, Marla was waiting like a big spider when Amelia got to her office late that evening.
“What are you going to do, and where?” Marla asked. “You’ve got to tell me! What has that man put you up to?”
“I can’t tell you,” Amelia groaned, knowing that Marla would rush to tell Andy, and then she’d have a male stripper in her office…arrrgh!
“I’m your friend,” Marla coaxed.
“So far, so good, will you swear out an affidavit to that effect and keep it on hand, I may need it,” she murmured as she drew on the belly dancer’s costume and tugged her trench coat over it. “This is getting to be a real drag, you know?” she muttered.
“Where are you going?” Marla asked.
“Out to eat.”
“Where?”
The phone rang in time to save her. Marla answered it, and Amelia got her purse and started out the door.
“Yes, of course I understand, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Marla was saying. “Yes, I’m sure the weather’s cooler there. It’s too bad she’s sick.”
Amelia waved and left. Rather than walk, she got a cab across town to the French restaurant. She walked in, nervous, fuming, and asked for Carlos.
The hostess gave her a blank stare. “I beg your pardon?”
“I want to speak to Carlos,” Amelia said again. “He’s expecting me.”
“To do what?” the hostess burst out, staring at the trench coat, which showed no blouse or skirt or slacks.
Amelia leaned forward. “I’m stark naked,” she said with a stage leer. “I’m supposed to jump out and scare an old lady in there. Now will you please get Carlos?”
“Yes, ma’am!” the hostess said quickly, backing away.
Amelia blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes. Of all the hangups, why did it have to happen to her? She glared around her, hating the elegant restaurant, hating Wentworth Carson, hating the whole world. Things had been going so well lately….
It seemed to take forever to get Carlos. But minutes later she heard footsteps and turned to see a tall, very somber policeman walking toward her.
“Okay, lady,” the policeman said, and brought out a pair of handcuffs. “Let’s go see the sergeant.”
“No!” Amelia burst out. “No, you can’t! I’m here for a legitimate reason. Let me show you!”
She started to unbutton the trench coat, and the policeman quickly got her hands behind her and whipped on the handcuffs.
“No, you don’t!” the policeman said quickly. “No flashing! Honest to God, you college kids give me a pain. Thanks for calling me, Dolores. I’ll take care of her. Come on, honey.”
“Thanks, Dolores,” Amelia sputtered at the stunned hostess. “I’ll do you a favor someday. What’re your favorite colors, and I’ll send flowers along with the bomb.”
“Terrorist threats and acts,” the policeman muttered as he led her toward the waiting squad car. “Honest to God, you could get ten years.”
Amelia started to speak just as a photographer rushed up and exploded a flashbulb in her face.
“Open the coat, honey, open the coat, let’s get some good pics!” the photographer called, and the policeman put her in the car and went forward to argue with the photographer.
Amelia sank back against the seat and closed her eyes. There are days, she thought pleasantly, when it’s just the very devil to get out of bed at all.
She eventually got everything straightened out. But it took a phone call to a very upset Marla, who had to come downtown and explain everything to the desk sergeant, who looked like a man who’d heard everything once and didn’t have a spare nerve left in his entire body.
“I will die, I will just die,” Amelia moaned when she and Marla were back at the Kennedys’ garage apartment. “Imagine me being arrested! Arrested! And for flashing…. I will kill that man,” she said, wide-eyed. “I will kill him stone-cold dead.”
“I may help you,” Marla said darkly. “Imagine, setting up poor Andy and his mother that way.” She frowned. “But, darling, Andy had gone home to see about his mother. She got sick early this morning.”
Amelia stopped and blinked. “What?”
“Andy went home.”
“But he told me to go to La Pierre tonight,” she gasped. “He told me to ask for Carlos….” She moaned again. “And there was a photographer! He took my picture!”
Marla stared at her. “What if he was a press photographer?”
She buried her head in her hands. “I’ll die.”
“Well, maybe he wasn’t. You get a good night’s sleep, and in the morning it will all seem like a bad dream, you’ll see.” Marla hugged her. “You’ve had an awful night, I know. Just have a nice bath and go to sleep, and in the morning it will be all right.”
“Will
