Just like—”
I finished it. “—the first trip with Ruth.
A little different, maybe.”
Mike said slowly, “A lot different.”
I opened another beer.
“Anything you want around here, anything else to be done?”
I said no.
“O.K.
Let’s get this over with.
We’ll put what we need in the car. We’ll stop at the Courville Bar before we hit the airport.”
I didn’t get it.
“There’s still beer left—”
“But no champagne.”
I got it.
“O.K.
I’m dumb, at times.
Let’s go.”
We loaded the machine into the car, and the bar, left the studio keys at the corner grocery for the real estate company, and headed for the airport by way of the Courville Bar.
Ruth was in California, but Joe had champagne.
We got to the airport late.
Marrs met us in Los Angeles.
“What’s up?
You’ve got Johnson running around in circles.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“Sounds crazy to me.
Couple of reporters inside.
Got anything for them?”
“Not right now.
Let’s get going.”
In Johnson’s private office we got a chilly reception.
“This better be good.
Where do you expect to find someone to lipread in Chinese?
Or Russian, for that matter?”
We all sat down.
“What have you got so far?”
“Besides a headache?”
He handed me a short list.
I scanned it.
“How long before you can get them here?”
An explosion. “How long before you can get them here?
Am I your errand boy?”
“For all practical purposes you are.
Quit the fooling.
How about it?”
Marrs snickered at the look on Johnson’s face.
“What are you smirking at, you moron?”
Marrs gave in and laughed outright, and I did, too.
“Go ahead and laugh.
This isn’t funny.
When I called the State School for the Deaf they hung up.