Scratch that last part.

She pulled her mind back to the show. He was really good. Harry listened for a while and then left, giving Charlie a thumbs-up through the booth window as he went. Charlie nodded and then looked out at Allie.

“You’re doing great,” she said to him, doing her cheerleader imitation through the production mike. It was like being back with Mark, except this time she was telling the truth. “Your voice is terrific. No wonder you were a hit in Lawrenceville.”

Charlie shook his head. The song ended, and he worked the slides and leaned into the mike again. “Like I said before, I never chuckle, but I don’t mind having a few laughs now and then, for all the right reasons. One of those reasons seems to me to be this new city building His Honor the Mayor wants built.”

Allie froze at the console. No. Not the mayor. Bill played poker with him every Thursday. This was not the way to build an audience, this was the way to build an enemy. An enemy they didn’t need, especially if it was the boss. She tried to shake her head at him through the window, but he was oblivious, concentrating on the mike.

“Now, I’m new in town,” Charlie went on, “so maybe you can call in and tell me I’m all wet here, but I was in your old city building today, and it’s a beautiful place. Marble floors, frosted glass, lots of wood paneling, and that’s real wood paneling, not that splintery stuff they sell for two dollars and ninety-nine cents at the back of the lumberyard. This is a building that was made with good materials, fine workmanship, and above all, pride. It’s the kind of building that might inspire a politician who worked there to take the service part of being a public servant seriously. Now, if you laughed at that, my friend, you’re a cynic. Shame on you.”

Allie clasped her hands in front of her and prayed, Don’t say anything dumb, Charlie. Please.

“So where’s the joke? Well, have you seen the model for the new city building? Hey, take a trip downtown to the old building to the planning office and have yourself a laugh. It looks like a one-story parking garage with windows. Which might be pretty appropriate for the politicians around here-a place to park and watch the world go by. Of course, like I said, I’m new in town, so I don’t really know much about your politicians. Except that if they prefer this new concrete bunker to their old marble palace, they have lousy taste in architecture.

“If you think the old city building deserves another hundred years, call in and let the city know why. And if you think the new plan is better, well, call in and tell me I’m wrong. In the meantime, this one’s for the city building. Hang in there, old lady.”

When she heard the beginning of Aretha Franklin’s “Rescue Me,” Allie put her head in her hands and gave herself over to a moment of panic. Then reality claimed her. Bill never listened to the show, and she was pretty sure the mayor didn’t, either. The station had been playing opera for the past week, and before that there had been Waldo and the aliens. Charlie couldn’t have more than four people listening to him, and they were going to be mad he wasn’t discussing the Martian question. There was nothing to worry about.

Then the phone rang.

“WBBB, the Charlie Tenniel show,” Allie said.

The voice was an old man’s, raspy and loud. “Yeah, let me talk to that disc jockey fellow.”

“Certainly, sir. Can I tell him what you’d like to say?”

“No, damn it, I’m gonna do that.”

“Uh, right. Sure.” Allie hesitated, knowing she should find out what the caller wanted before turning him over to Charlie. On the other hand, he obviously wasn’t going to tell her. And it would be a bad idea to alienate any callers. After all, this might be the only one Charlie got. And it would be a chance for her to find out how he handled himself with callers. “Could I have your name, please?”

“Eb Groats.”

“You’ve got a caller,” Allie told Charlie over the production mike. “A Mr. Eb Groats.”

Charlie nodded and Allie punched up the call. Samson whimpered at her feet, and Allie stuck her head under the desk to see what was wrong. He actually seemed hungry, and she hurried to drip more formula into his mouth, giving all her attention to him until Charlie came back on the air a few minutes later.

“I’ve been talking to Eb Groats from up north of the city limits. Eb tells me he was around when part of the building went up. Right, Eb?”

“Well, son, like I was telling you, we put that back wing up about ’35. My first job, I wasn’t more’n seventeen.”

“Well, Eb, you did a great job.”

“Hell, yes.”

“Don’t say hell, Eb. The FCC doesn’t like it.”

“My wife doesn’t either. The hell with her.”

“But about the city building, Eb.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing. That building was built to last. Any dang fool could see that.”

“Even me.”

“Even you. Even that other dang fool Rollie Whitcomb.”

“Mayor Whitcomb seems pretty sold on the new building.”

“’Course, he does. His brother’s gonna get the contract.”

Charlie said, “What?” and Allie raised her head so fast she smacked it on the underside of the producer’s desk.

“You check into it, boy. The contract will say Somebody or Other Construction, but you follow the trail back and you’ll find Al Whitcomb’s name on it.”

Oh, no, not this. Allie rubbed the back of her head and thought fast.

No. Charlie felt the waves he wasn’t supposed to be making lapping at his ankles. No scandal. Do not call attention to yourself. That would be bad. “I think that’s slander, Eb.”

“Not if it’s true, it ain’t. I’m old, but I ain’t stupid.”

“That’s for darn sure. Well, Eb, you’ve certainly made my first night on the job one to remember. And possibly my last night on the job, too. Thanks for calling. And call back and tell me I’m a fool again sometime, Eb. You sound just like my grandpa. I’m glad you were listening in.”

“I wasn’t. My great-grandson listens to that fool Harry the Howler and we kind of slopped on over into your show.”

“Well, slop on over anytime.”

“Will do, son. Good luck on savin’ that building.”

“Thanks. I’m going to need all the luck I can get.” There was a click on the line, and Charlie spent a nanosecond cursing his lousy luck. He looked out the window at Allie, who was rubbing her head, probably as stunned as he was. He shrugged at her and went back to his regularly scheduled patter, steering as far clear of the city building as he could. “Of course, I’ve already had more luck than any new guy in town deserves. My first caller is a great guy like Eb, and the first lady I met in town yesterday is the kind of woman a man never forgets, even when she says goodbye, which she just did today. Fortunately, I’ve had a lot of experience with rejection. Anyway, this is for that lady who said I insulted her in the bar yesterday. Trust me, honey, I meant it in the nicest possible way.”

Allie shook her head when she heard Patsy Cline slide into “Crazy.”

“Very funny, Charlie.”‘ she said into the mike. “About the city building-”

“I didn’t mean to, believe me,” he told her. “I thought it was just a nice, friendly kind of topic.”

“Bill’s a backer of Rollie Whitcomb.”

Charlie laughed shortly. “He would be. He’s just like my dad.”

“Your dad backs mayors?”

“My dad buys mayors.” Charlie swiveled away from the window to refill the cassette stack. “Oh, well, at least nobody’s listening.”

Just me. Allie watched Charlie pushing the slides happily or the next half hour, playing music and talking to three callers who wanted to put in their two cents about the city building. Things were going well. In fact, four callers in the first half hour of a new show was phenomenal.

They were safe.

But safe made for lousy radio.

She could fix that.

Of course, they didn’t want to make enemies, but since nobody seemed too upset about the mayor’s brother, that wasn’t a problem. And Charlie was great with callers, absolutely brilliant. More people should know that. Of course, Charlie didn’t want to be famous. But this was a civic issue, he had a civic duty.

And she wanted the show to be a hit.

“I’m a slime,” she told Samsom, fast asleep in his basket. “A career-obsessed, pathetic slime.” Then she picked up a clear phone line and punched in the mayor’s phone number.


* * *

Charlie was feeling pretty good. He liked Eb and the three people who’d called after Eb, the console was state-of-the-art so it was a piece of cake to run, and it didn’t really matter whether he was a success or not at this hour of the night. And actually, it was fun. Once again his life was under control. He’d have all his days to track down that damn letter and figure out who wrote it, and then he could play radio at night until he finished the job and left in November.

Life didn’t get much better.

Then Allie’s voice came through his headphones. “Caller on line two.”

“Who’s this one?”

“The mayor.”

He swung around to stare at her through the window, but she just shrugged and smiled and punched the button that transferred the call to him.

“Who the hell is this?

“Uh, Charlie Tenniel.” He shot an agonized glance at the digital readout on the console. Fifteen seconds till the last song was over.

“Well, what the hell is going on down there? Where’s Bill? What is this garbage?”

He sounded like an overbearing, handshaking politician. Charlie had met a lot of them growing up and he hadn’t liked them. Still, it wasn’t his job to make waves. “We’ve been talking about the city building, sir.”