Jill put her hand out again in the general direction of the script person and waggled it. The script woman handed her the lighted cigarette and she took another big drag, dropped it on the floor, shrugged deeper into her mink, and headed toward the escalator. A uniformed Boston cop named Ray Morrissey walked ahead of Jill and moved people out of her way.
Wow, I said. Was that magic, or what?
Susan grinned. God save me, I could watch it all day.
Really? I said.
You think Im deeply disturbed? Susan said.
Yes, I said.
She nodded. Yes, she said. I think youre right. Then she smiled her smile that made Jill Joyce look like a cow flap and nodded her head toward a group standing beyond the escalator.
Theres Sandy, she said.
Sandy was state-of-the-art Eddie Bauer. He had on a full-length gold-colored down-lined jumpsuit, with black fur-topped thermal boots half zipped and a black knit ski cap with a large golden tassel. He was short and probably wiry but who could tell in the down jumpsuit. He had a goatee. With him was a hatless man with a lot of black curly hair, a strong nose, and dark skin. As we moved through the crowd toward them, the crew was packing up equipment, folding light stands, coiling cable, dismantling the cameras, packing up the sound gear. Everyone seemed to know what he was doing, which made this a unique enterprise in my experience.
Susan said, Sandy.
Sandy turned and smiled at her. His glance took me in too, but it didnt harm the smile.
Susan, Sandy said. And this has got to be Mr. Spenser. Beyond Sandy and the guy with the black curly hair was a youngish guy with a round face and rimless glasses. He looked at both of us without expression.
Susan introduced me. This is Sandy Salzman, she said. Hes the line producer. Susan had been consulting on the show for less than a month now and already she spoke a language as arcane as the psychological tech talk of which Id but recently cured her. We shook hands.
This is Milo Nogarian, Susan said, gesturing toward the guy with the curls, the executive producer, and Marty Riggs, from Zenith. We shook hands.
Susan is the consultant we hired, Marty, Sandy said. And Mr. Spenser is a, ah, private security consultant, that maybe is going to give us a hand with Jill.
Marty Riggs gazed at me with his gray expressionless eyes, enlarged a bit by the rimless glasses. He was wearing a tweed cap and a cable-stitched white wool sweater under a thick Donegal tweed jacket with a long scarf wrapped around his neck. The loose ends of the scarf reached to his knees. He gave me a small stiff nod. I smiled warmly.
Susan actually is a psychotherapist, Marty, Nogarian said. Sees to it that we dont get our complexes mixed up. Susan smiled even more warmly than I had.
Im sure, Marty said. Milo, just remember what I said. I dont want to have to go in to the network again and defend a piece of shit that you people have labeled script and sent over, capice?
Time, Marty, Nogarian said, you know what the time pressures are like.
And you know what cancellation is like, Milo. You have the top television star on the planet and you havent broken the top ten yet, you know why? Script is why. Jills been raising hell about them and shes right. I want something better, and I want to start seeing it tomorrow.
How come your scarfs so long? I said. Susan put her hand on my arm.
Riggs turned and looked at me. What? he said.
Your scarf, I said, is dangerously long. You might step on it and strangle yourself.
Susan dug her fingers into my arm.
What the fuck are you talking about? Riggs said.
Your scarf. I may have to make a citizens arrest here, your scarf is a safety hazard.
Riggs looked at Nogarian and Salzman. Who the fuck is this guy, Milo?
Nogarian looked as if hed eaten something awful. Salzman seemed to be struggling with laughter. Susans grip on my arm was so hard now that if I werent tougher than six roofing nails it might have hurt.
Looks dandy though, I said.
Whoever Riggs was he was used to getting more respect than I was giving him, and he couldnt quite figure out what to do about me.
If you want to work around here, buddy, he said, you better watch
your step. Then he glared at all of us and turned and walked away. In a moment he was on the ascending escalator, and soon he had risen from sight.
Nogarian said, Jesus Christ.
Salzman let out the laughter hed been suppressing. Wonderful, he said as he laughed, a citizens arrest. You gotta love it.
Who is he, anyway? I said.
Senior VeePee, Salzman said, Creative Affairs, One Hour, Zenith Meridien Television.
Whyd you lean on him? Nogarian said.
He seemed something of a dork, I said.
Salzman laughed again. You start leaning on every dork in the television business, youre going to be a busy man.
So many dorks, I said, so little time.
Its not going to help us with the studio, Nogarian said.
Milo, it was worth it, Salzman said, watching Marty try to figure out who Spenser was so he could figure out if he should take shit from him or fire him. Salzman snorted with laughter. You ready for some lunch?