Shamus In The Green Room by Susan Kandel

Author:Susan Kandel
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

up category, mostly large corporations; small donors, in the

under $250 category, individuals, mostly; and a lot of folks in

between.

Like In the Green Room.

In the Green Room had given the Oceans Conservancy two

hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

A quarter of a million smackeroos.

Now why would Will and Rafe have done that?

t

T h e r a i n s t o p p e d .

I went for a run, because there went that excuse.

The good news is, I lasted four miles. The bad news is, my

Walkman ran out of battery power after five minutes, so I had

no choice but to listen to the voices in my head, which were

having a field day. I tried to sing show tunes to drown them

out, but it’s a problem when you don’t remember the words.

Gambino called while I was out. He sounded elated. The

judge in the Gonzalez case had ruled the evidence admissible,

despite the iffy circumstances. He said the twenty seconds

Gambino and Tico had waited before forcibly entering Gonza-

lez’s apartment had been more than sufficient, given their rea-

sonable concern about the destruction of evidence. And further

to the fact, because Gonzalez was in the shower at the time

they approached the apartment and did not hear them knock

and announce themselves, additional delay before entry would

247

have made no difference in how subsequent events unfolded.

Gambino and Tico were still up for disciplinary review, but

given the judge’s findings, it was pretty much a slam dunk. All

anybody wanted, Gambino said, was to see the son of a bitch

go down for a long time.

It made me happy to hear him so happy. How could I lay

my garbage on him when he was feeling so happy?

He was going out with Tico to have a celebratory drink,

then to his apartment for a while. He’d see me at my place,

late, around eleven.

My story could wait until at least then.

In the meantime, I needed to talk to May Madden. I went

out to the office to find the Oceans Conservancy online. There

was an 800 number on their Web site, but I don’t trust 800

numbers, so I called them directly in Washington, D.C. It was

two in the afternoon L.A. time, which meant almost closing

time for them. I hoped someone would still be in the office.

Someone was. Unfortunately, May Madden proved more

elusive. She was out in the field, on a research expedition in

Woods Hole. The man on the other end of the line said he’d be

happy to leave a message for her and that she’d get back to me

when she returned.

I left my information, then got back online to look up

Woods Hole, which turned out to be the Woods Hole Oceano-

graphic Institution, pronounced “whooey,” an international

center of oceanographic studies located on Cape Cod. The guy

who answered talked to me for a long time about scuba diving,

which was interesting up to a point. He, however, turned out

to be an intern, subbing for the regular receptionist, who was

out until Monday, and he had no idea how to access the guest/

248

visitor database, which meant that unless I had specific infor-

mation about May’s research area, he wasn’t sure he’d be able

to track her down.

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