Part 39 (1/2)
”Don't play stupid, Policeman. You have enough natural defects, there is no need to supplement.”
Boxmeister said, ”Ouch. Heil, Helga.”
Milo uncrossed, scanned his notes again, edged his chair back a few inches. Removing a handkerchief from a trouser pocket, he wiped his brow. ”Getting hot in here, no?”
Helga Gemein tugged at her wig. ”I am comfortable.”
”To me it feels hot. I'd think that thing would make it worse for you.”
”What thing?”
”The hairpiece. Dynel doesn't breathe.”
”This,” she said, ”is genuine hair. From India.” He smiled. ”So you're not a hothead.” Helga snorted and turned away.
Milo said, ”No, I mean that seriously. It's clear to me that you rely on reason, not impulse.”
Maria Thomas leaned forward. ”Yes, yes, go for it.”
Helga Gemein said, ”Should I not rely on reason?”
”Of course you should,” said Milo. ”We all should. But sometimes being spontaneous-”
”Spontaneity is an excuse for poor planning.”
”You're into planning.”
No answer.
Maria Thomas was at the edge of her chair. ”Easy, now.” Milo said, ”Being an architect, I imagine you'd favor blueprints.” Helga turned to face him. ”Without blueprints, Policeman, even chaos doesn't work.”
”Even chaos?”
Up came the pedantic finger. ”There is chaos that emanates from stupidity. Think of flatfooted policemen in bra.s.s-b.u.t.toned tunics and tall hats tripping over themselves. Then, there is corrective chaos. And that must be planned.”
”Burning those twigs didn't result from stupidity,” said Milo. ”You considered every detail.”
”I always do,” said Helga.
”Always?”
”Always.”
Maria Thomas punched her fist. ”Yes!”
Helga Gemein sniffed. ”This room smells like a toilet.”
”It does get a little stale,” said Milo.
”How often do you bring prost.i.tutes here?”
”Pardon?”
”For your policeman after-hour parties.”
”Must've missed those.”
”Oh, please,” said Helga. ”It is common knowledge what policemen do with women they've dominated. Down on the knees, the man feels so big.”
Boxmeister said, ”I must work in the wrong division.”
Maria Thomas shot him a sharp look. He shrugged.
Milo said, ”The cops do that in Switzerland?”
Helga said, ”If you are interested in Switzerland, buy a plane ticket. Good-bye, Policeman. You have bored me enough, I am going.”
But she made no attempt to stand.
Milo said, ”Going?”
”Twigs? Brush clearing? What is that, a penalty? I will pay you.”
”Out of that cash in your purse?”
”Since when is it a crime to have money? America wors.h.i.+ps money.”
”No crime at all. But six thousand's a lot of cash to be carrying around.”
Helga smirked.
Thomas said, ”That was pure rich kid. This one's never been told no.”
Helga said, ”What is the amount of my fine?”
Milo said, ”I'm not sure of the penal code on twigs yet. We're still checking.”
”Well, do it quickly.”
”Soon as the district attorney lets me know, I'll get the paperwork going. Meanwhile, let's go over this act of cleansing.”
”Not again, no, I will not.”
”I just want to make sure I understand.”
”If you do not understand by this time, you are hopelessly defective.”
”Anything's possible,” said Milo. He shuffled papers, knitted his brows, stuck out a tongue, hummed a low tune. ”You're sure you don't want more water?”
”I still have.” Eyeing the cup he'd brought her five minutes in.