82 Desire

gig.”
    “What? Are you telling me she works for United Oil?”
    “Fifty bucks.”
    “It’s pretty easy to check out.”
    “Yeah, but you got to admit it’s a damn good tip. If you’re an honest woman, you’ll pay.”
    That kind of got to her. She had halfway promised him. She made a mental note to go against all advice and send cash through the mail. It wasn’t a damn good tip, it couldn’t have been better. It was the tip of tips: United Oil was the link. But why the hell had he told her?
    Lovers’ quarrel, maybe. She shrugged, though there was no one there to interpret the gesture. And then she set about interpreting the data.
    She was starting to wish she hadn’t called in sick. But wait, they wouldn’t know that in the library, and Jane knew a trick—she could get in via modem and download the United Oil file.
    In half an hour she was inundated. But there wasn’t a blemish anywhere that she could see. There was a great deal of activity, though. United Oil was expanding like crazy, both in the Gulf and elsewhere. You’d think they planned to take over the world.
    Suspicious indeed, in Jane’s opinion—you had to wonder where big bucks came from.
    She called the company, and, having endured endless voice mail choices, she finally scored a human being, whom she asked for Sandra Wallis. The human was silent for a few minutes. Finally, she said, “Sorry. We have no Sandra Wallis here.”
    Jane refused to believe it. Absolutely wouldn’t accept it. This was the first break in this ridiculous thing, and she wasn’t about to give it up just because it wasn’t true. She was considering asking for The Baroness de Pontalba when the human said, “Could she be a temp?”
    Jane didn’t think so, but you never knew. “Yes,” she said. “I’m really not sure.”
    “Well, if she is, she could be here. We don’t have all the temps’ names.”
    “Can you just ring them all? How many are there?”
    “No, I really can’t. There are twenty or so, it looks like.”
    “Okay, thanks.” She thought, There’s more than one way to skin a cat, and picked up the phone book. There were only a few Wallises; no big deal.
    She called the first three and asked for Sandra, or would have if she’d once more gotten a human. But robots, to quote Lamar, were guarding the phones of the Wallises. She kept trying, and on the fifth got one that said she worked for “Sandra and Clara Wallis,” though not in the butterscotch tones of The Baroness. Must be Clara, Jane thought, and wondered if she could be the mama who got duped. “In case of emergency,” the message said, “you can call me at work.”
    Jane scribbled down the number. She didn’t bother making up an emergency, figuring Clara was used to anyone who got the machine just going ahead and calling.
    The same voice answered the phone: “Landry residence.”
    “Ms. Wallis? Is that you?”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “I’m a friend of Sandra’s from her old job—I’ve been trying to get her at United, but I don’t have her extension.”
    “Well, they move her around so much I don’t recollect it, exactly. She work in Property, though; Property and something else. Acquisitions! I’m pretty sure it’s Acquisitions.”
    “Okay, Ms. Wallis. I sure thank you.” Sounds like a nice lady , Jane thought. Last thing she needed was that asshole at Charity.
    She called back, got Acquisitions and Property, asked for Sandra Wallis, and once again ran up against a blank wall. She was about to find some nails to chew when the receptionist said, “We have a Talba Wallis.”
    “Ah. That’s her.”
    There were clicks and then The Baroness’s butterscotch voice. Jane said, “I didn’t know Baronesses had nicknames.”
    “Who’s this?”
    “Jane Storey from the Picayune. “
    “I know which Jane Storey you are. How many Jane Storeys do you think I know? You want to do that story?”
    “That’s not why I’m calling.”
    “Oh.” The voice deflated. “I had a real bad feeling it wasn’t.”
    “Yeah, I finally figured out the Russell Fortier connection.”
    If butterscotch could be haughty, the voice was. “I really can’t talk about that now.”
    “I’m coming right over.”
    “No!” The Baroness was practically shouting. Definitely losing her cool.
    “Okay, then talk.”
    “I don’t know anything.”
    “Still want me to do a story about you?”
    “After work? Please?”
    She sounded so pathetic Jane took pity on her. “Okay. I’ll meet you in