Tales of the City 01 - Tales of the City

only they cut the labels out because they’re overruns, so you can get them for practically nothing … and since I’m crazy about Helen, but not that crazy, I though I’d buy her this precious Calvin Klein cashmere cowl-neck sweater that I could tell was a Calvin Klein, even though they’d cut the label out, because it had GJG in it.”
    Edgar gave up and let it wash over him. “GJG?” he asked blandly.
    “That’s the code. Anyway, it’s just plain tacky to give your best friend a sweater without a label in it, so I asked them at Loehmann’s if they had any extra labels, and they said that they were all cut out by the manufacturers, so …”
    “Macy’s, Frannie.”
    “I’m getting to that. I went to Macy’s … well, not exactly Macy’s, but that new place called the Shop on Union Square, and I picked out a couple of Calvin Klein sweaters … and when I was in the dressing room I noticed one of the labels was so loose it was practically falling off, so I took out a pair of nail scissors and …”
    “Jesus Christ!”
    “Oh, don’t be so sanctimonious, Edgar! They’ve got hundreds of labels, and I wasn’t … Well, when that horrid little Chicano clerk barged in, you would have thought I was stealing or something!”
    He was back on the phone two minutes after Frannie had hung up.
    “Anna?”
    “Hello.”
    “I have to see you, Anna.”
    “Edgar … I don’t think that’s …”
    “No arguments. I want to show you something.”
    “What?”
    “You’ll see. I’ll pick you up tomorrow after breakfast.”
    “What about Mr. Williams?”
    “He’s not coming until six. We’ll be back by then.”

Breaking and Entering
    O N THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS EVE, MICHAEL phoned Mona in Pacific Heights.
    “Hi, Babycakes!”
    “Mouse!”
    “Don’t Mouse me! I thought you were becoming a dyke, not a nun! Where the hell have you been?”
    “Mouse … I’m sorry … It’s just that I’ve had so much adjusting …”
    “Tell me. It’s a strain being pissy. I tried it once for three days in Laguna Beach … and I nearly OD’d on kaftans.”
    Mona managed a laugh. “I’ve missed you, Mouse. I really have.”
    “Prove it, then, and come to Mrs. Madrigal’s wingding.”
    “When?”
    “Tomorrow night.”
    “I can’t. Jesus … I don’t even want to think about it.”
    “What?”
    “I’m having D’or’s parents over for dinner.”
    “Christ … in-laws and everything! D’or must be a lot of fun!”
    “She doesn’t even know about it.”
    “She …? What are you up to, Babycakes?”
    “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say I’m freaked.”
    “Mrs. Madrigal will be disappointed.”
    “I know. I’m sorry.”
    “Maybe you should give her a call or something. I think she thinks you’re … bummed out with her.”
    “Why should she …?”
    “You haven’t talked to her in weeks, Mona.”
    “Thanks for the guilt trip.”
    “It isn’t a guilt trip. She asked me to call you. She really misses you.” Silence.
    “I’ll explain about your dinner party. She’ll understand. But give her a call, O.K.?”
    “O.K.” Her voice seemed unusually weak. “You doin’ all right, Babycakes?”
    “Mouse … I think D’or has a drug problem.”
    Michael couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m serious, Mouse!”
    “What’s the matter? She pinching your Quaaludes or something?”
    “For your information, smartass, I found some totally unidentifiable pills in her dresser last night, and she started acting really spooky when I asked her about them.”
    “Has she been acting spooky otherwise?”
    “No. Not particularly.”
    “Well, relax, then.”
    “I can’t. I’m saving my last Quaalude for tomorrow.”
    Mary Ann, meanwhile, was trying to decide what to do about Norman.
    He had made himself unreachable for days, avoiding Barbary Lane during daylight hours, often returning to his house on the roof as late as 3 or 4 A.M ., when Mary Ann could hear his labored footsteps on the stairs.
    He was drinking heavily, she guessed, and it made her uncomfortable to think that she might be the reason.
    Mrs. Madrigal had left him two notes about the party, neither of which he had answered. He seemed to be a man of single purpose now, moody and slightly manic, lunging uncontrollably toward a Holy Grail that no one but himself could see.
    Something had to be done.
    It was dark in the foyer of the house when Mary Ann opened the door under the stairwell leading to the basement. Fumbling in the