Tales of the City 01 - Tales of the City

his forehead with his fingertips. He didn’t turn around. “We have a conference.”
    “Right,” said Beauchamp, leaving.
    Promptly at noon, Mary Ann headed for the Royal Exchange with Mona.
    “Shit,” groaned the copywriter over a Pimm’s Cup. “I am so spaced today.”
    Not surprising, thought Mary Ann. Mona was paid to be spaced. She was the resident freak at Halcyon Communications. Clients who weren’t immediately impressed with her creativity changed their minds when they saw her office: an assortment of hookah pipes, an oak icebox which served as a bar, an antique wheelchair, a collage of Playgirl beefcake photos, and a neon martini glass from a Tenderloin bar.
    “What’s the matter?” asked Mary Ann.
    “I did mescaline last night.”
    “Oh?”
    “We went to Mission Street and tripped through all those godawful tacky furniture stores with the tassled lampshades and round beds and … you know … those phony waterfall things in the glass tubes. It was so plastic, but … you know … like cosmic plasticity … and in a weird way it was sort of, like, spiritual, you know.”
    Mary Ann did not know. She avoided the issue by ordering a turkey sandwich and a bean salad. Mona ordered another Pimm’s Cup.
    “Guess what?” said Mary Ann.
    “Yeah?”
    “I’m going to dinner at Mrs. Madrigal’s tonight.”
    “Congratulations. She likes you.”
    “You already told me that.”
    “Well … then she trusts you.”
    “Why do I have to be trusted?”
    “Nothing … I just meant …”
    “How should I handle it, Mona?”
    “Handle what?”
    “Her. I don’t know … I feel like she expects something of me.”
    “Bourgeois paranoia.”
    “I know … but you’re really close to her, and I thought you might be able to tell me … you know … her quirks.”
    “She’s decent. That’s her quirk. She also makes a fabulous rack of lamb.”
    Mona left work at four o’clock, deliberately skirting Mary Ann’s alcove near the elevator. When she got home, she found Mrs. Madrigal in the garden.
    The landlady was wearing plaid slacks, a paint-smeared smock and a straw hat. Her face was ruddy from exertion. “Well … home so early from the fields, dear?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Just so many things you can say about pantyhose, eh?”
    Mona smiled. “I wanted to tell you something. It’s no big deal, really.”
    “Fine.”
    “Mary Ann’s been asking me about you.”
    “Have you told her anything?”
    “I figure that’s your business.”
    “You think she’s too green, don’t you?”
    Mona nodded. “Right now, yeah.”
    “We’re having dinner tonight.”
    “She told me. That’s why … well, I didn’t want you to be embarrassed, that’s all.”
    “Thank you, dear.”
    “I should mind my own business, shouldn’t I?”
    “No. I appreciate your concern. Would you like to come tonight?”
    “No, I … no, thank you.”
    “You’re very special to me, dear.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Madrigal.”

Anguish in Bohemia
    A FTER WORK, EDGAR SWILLED A DOUBLE SCOTCH AT the Bohemian Club.
    The rules of a well-ordered life were never enough when other people refused to obey them. Beauchamp was only one of many.
    The Cartoon Room was crowded. Edgar sat alone in the Domino Room, preferring silence. The dread had begun to grow again.
    He rose and went to the telephone. His hands grew slippery around the receiver.
    The maid answered.
    “Halcyon Hill.”
    “Emma … is Mrs. Halcyon available?”
    “Just a moment, Mr. Halcyon.”
    Frannie’s mouth was full. “Uhhmm … darling … marvelous cheese puffs I doggy-bagged from Cyril’s party! And Emma’s whipped up a divine blanquette de veau! When are you coming home?”
    “I have to pass tonight, Frannie.”
    “Edgar! Not those damn pantyhose again?”
    “No. I’m at the club. There’s a … committee meeting.”
    Silence.
    “Frannie?”
    “What?” She was icy.
    “I have to do these things. You know that.”
    “We do what we want, Edgar.”
    Blood rushed to his face. “All right, then, goddammit! I want to go to this meeting! That make you happy?”
    Frannie hung up.
    He stood there, holding the phone, then put it down and mopped his face with a handkerchief. He took several deep breaths. He reached for the directory and looked up Ruby Miller’s phone number.
    He dialed.
    “Evening. Ruby here.” She sounded more grandmotherly than ever.
    “Edgar Halcyon, Mrs. Miller.”
    “Oh … how nice to hear your voice. Gracious, it’s been a long