KALEIDOSCOPE II PART 6
By Cynthia Hatch
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Joe looked frazzled, as if he'd reached the end of a typical sixty hour week, and his arm, when he raised it to rub the tension from his neck, revealed a circle of perspiration, though the office's air-conditioning was working uncommonly well. It was two o'clock on Monday afternoon. "Gibbons is an idiot, and Myers thinks anyone outside of the Bureau is a communist.""Come on, Joe. They weren't that bad."
"Oh, yeah? What about Greenwald? He made his contempt for this office pretty clear. What do you wanna bet the bozo couldn't find the prize in a box of Cracker Jacks? How's he supposed to find a Vermeer?"
"I didn't think there were many of them left," she said placidly.
"What?" Joe stopped his agitated pacing in front of her desk. "You mean Vermeers?"
"No, I meant communists."
"Cute, Radcliffe. I'm telling you, you don't know what you're taking on with this barrel of monkeys. Every step of the way they're gonna be screaming about jurisdiction. You'll never get a thing out of them."
"Well then, we'll just have to develop our own case," she smiled at him. "Maybe the competition will be a good thing for us. That is the point, isn't it, Joe? To find the thief and get the painting back?"
For the first time since their grueling meeting with the others involved in the case, he gave her a grudging smile. "Yeah, I guess that's the point."
"Tell you what,' she said, rising from her chair. "How about we get out of here for a while? I'll buy you a sandwich."
"On your salary?" He seemed reluctant to let go of the rare, black mood he'd perfected. 'I wouldn't advise it, Radcliffe. The cash flow could break you."
"It's okay," she humored him, coming around the desk to take his arm. "I'l1 take it out of my inheritance."
Out on the street the heat sprung from the pavement in visible waves. Pedestrians jostled past in clothes from which the humidity had extracted any semblance of shape. The angry persistence of honking horns attested to a theory that their own records could support: Tempers rise with the temperature. They found they almost had to shout at each other to be heard.
"I'm sorry, Cath, I'm not trying to bring you down. It's just these bureaucratic types, you know?. They really get to me."
"I know, Joe. They get in the way, and you just want to get the job done. You like to keep control. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Control? You think I'm a controlling kind of guy?"
"In a way. I just mean you want to see things done right. If there were enough hours in the day, I'm sure you'd prefer to do everything yourself -- so you'd be sure it was done as thoroughly as possible."
"What is that, do you think?" He turned an earnest frown toward her, as they walked. "You think that's some kind of character flaw?"
"No," she assured him. "I think it's what makes you so good at your job. You're going to be a big success some day."
"What -- like him?" He nodded at the sooty brick wall of a corner building, plastered with handbills, bearing the grinning likeness of mayoral candidate, Byron Stark.
"Not exactly. You're more real than Byron Stark."
"How much you think he paid for those caps on his teeth?"
"I don't know," she laughed, "but a lot more than I'm willing to spend on your lunch."
The diner was mercifully cool, but Joe was still steaming. "That's another one -- Stark. The guy's a total prima donna. If he gets in this year, the whole --"
"Joe," she pushed her iced tea aside and reached across the formica table to lay a calming hand on his arm. "When was the last time you had a vacation?"
"A vacation?" He spaced the word out, as if the syllables were foreign to his tongue. "Good one, Cath. We got paperwork up to the eyeballs, a case that's bound to spend more time on the front page than the masthead, and you're talking vacation."
"Bet you have one coming," she challenged.
"Well, yeah, there's a few days on the books."
"More like weeks, isn't it?"
"Hey, that's on the books. The bottom line is we're shorthanded. There's no way I can take off."
"You need it, Joe," she admonished softly. "All the signs are there."
He inhaled deeply, and finally appeared to relax a bit. "You're right, I know. I'll take care of it soon as we've got our heads above water. I almost lost my best investigator. That kind of sets a guy on edge, you know?."
"I'm right here, Joe. I'm fine, and I'm going to help. A lot of the backup is my fault, but I'm going to put in as many extra hours as necessary to wrap it up, as soon as possible. I promise."
'Listen to you, Cath. You're the one that's been through hell, and you sit here trying to make me feel better. I don't get it. How can you stay so cool, when I'm bouncing off the walls?"
"I don't know," she said, giving him her most innocent look. "Maybe 'cause I'm not Italian? There's nothing else wrong is there, Joe? I mean in your personal life?'
"Personal life? What exactly is that, Radcliffe?"
"Maybe that's the trouble, Joe. You need to get away from all this now and then and unwind. Maybe find a nice girl."
"No argument there."
"'Well. you won't find one in our files. You need to get out more."
His next question made her regret the direction the conversation had taken. "Is that what keeps you so together, Radcliffe? You got something serious going with this plumber?"
She felt the beginnings of a blush and busied herself salting her fries. "He's not really a plumber. Joe."
"No? What then?"
"He does . . . a lot of different things."
"Hey, be careful, Cath. These guys that go from job to job --there's usually a reason."
"That's not what I meant. He has a lot of interests -- a lot of things he's really good at." There was an unreal feeling to this conversation, to be discussing Vincent with Joe, however indirectly. It seemed suddenly that the walls between the worlds had grown very thin indeed.
"I'm just saying, there's a lot of guys out there that'll take advantage. Let's face it, Cath -- you're a rich woman."
"What are you saying, Joe -- that the only reason a man would be attracted to me is my money?"
"Don't play lawyer with me. That's not what I said, and you know it. Has he got any money?"
"Not really, no."
"Great. Did I ever tell you what happened to my sister, Barbara? She fell for the mechanic that did her valve job. Personally, I didn't like him, but who am I --just her big brother, right? He was always a little short of cash -- for the rent, the phone bill, something, and she started lending him money -- every time she got a paycheck. The next thing you know, he's got a brand new Harley, and he's tooling off for Vermont without even a bye-bye, Barb."
"That's terrible, Joe."
"Yeah, well, he totaled it on the Sawmill River, but she never saw a penny of that money again. I'd hate to see something like that happen to you."
"Trust me, Joe," she managed, hoping he'd think the spicy mustard was responsible for the tears in her eyes. His efforts at brotherly advice invariably touched her, but the images he invoked with his dire warnings set off a perverse desire to giggle. "I really don't think that's going to happen."
"I know you're not gullible or stupid, Cath, but you are softhearted. All I'm saying is think twice before you give the guy anything. You deserve the best, kiddo."
"Thanks, I appreciate that." She took a hurried bite of the thick corned beef sandwich, scarcely trusting the next words that might come out of her mouth. Words that must never, ever be spoken.
Joe's staunch friendship, his sincere concern had brought them closer to the surface than she liked. A part of her longed to look straight into those warm, brown eyes and say, "I have the best, Joe --the love of the most extraordinary man ever to walk the earth. He's opened my mind, expanded my soul. He fills my heart. Right this minute I can feel the power of his love with every beat of it. Every, breath I take is as much his as mine. Wherever he is right now, whatever he's doing, he's probably well aware of the discomfort I'm feeling at this conversation."
"I wouldn't even be here now -- you would never have known me, if it wasn't for him. Whatever he does, he does to perfection. And yes, he's rich in ways your simple, open heart could understand. Joe, if you ever got the chance to know him. Someday an entire world will be his -- a land of the most wonderful, generous people. Would I give him anything he asked for? Yes, Joe, I would -- absolutely anything." Instead, she wiped her mouth with the napkin and said. "There's really nothing to worry about. It's not like I'm suddenly going to elope to Atlantic City."
"Jeez, I hope not. You're sure?"
"I guarantee it."
"Well, that's a relief anyway. We really need you, kiddo."
"Sure you do. Who else could get the boss to smile when he started the day in such a grumpy mood?"
"I don't know." He glanced out the window in time to watch a mini skirted brunette swinging her impossibly long legs into the back seat of a taxi. "But I think she might have a pretty good shot at it." he said with a devilish grin.
"That's better," Catherine laughed. "Tacky -- but better."