Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

for a minute or so, then looked up Bambi’s number in her address book and dialed her direct.
    “Hello.” Bambi’s voice, vapid and breezy as ever, was accompanied by the sound of Andy Gibb’s falsetto.
    “Bambi, it’s Mary Ann.”
    “Aha! You still in Cleveland?”
    Cleveland? Is that what Brian told her? “Uh … yeah … what’s up?”
    “Didn’t your boyfriend tell you?”
    “Well … he said something about some notes, but I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant.”
    “Does Jonestown ring a bell?”
    Mary Ann counted. One … two … three … four. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “my treatment. How embarrassing! I hope you didn’t read it. It’s hopelessly corny at this point.”
    “Treatment?”
    “For a movie. I had this dumb idea for a thriller, and a friend of mine who knows this agent in Hollywood said I should work up some notes before making a formal presentation.”
    “Oh.”
    “It’s kind of moonlighting, I guess. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention it to …”
    “You made up a story about Jim Jones?”
    “Why not?” said Mary Ann. “Lots of writers make up stories about … say, Jack the Ripper. He was the boogeyman of his time; Jones is ours.”
    “And that stuff about him having a double …?”
    “Pretty dumb, huh?”
    Silence.
    “Oh well,” sighed Mary Ann. “This is my first crack at it. I guess I’ll get better as …”
    “I like your casting,” said Bambi.
    “Huh?”
    “DeDe Day as the one who escapes from Guyana with her twins in tow. It’s ingenious, really, using a real-life person like that. It’s so outlandish that it could almost be true, couldn’t it?”
    Silence.
    “Couldn’t it, Mary Ann?”
    The jig was obviously up. “Bambi, look …”
    “No, you look. I have an obligation to give those notes to Larry, Mary Ann. I wanted you to know that. Frankly, I’m surprised you would sit on a story of this magnitude without seeking some sort of professional journalistic guidance.”
    Meaning her, of course. “I had planned on consulting the news department,” said Mary Ann. “In fact, I thought you would be the ideal person to …” The lie caught in her throat like a bad oyster. “The story is yours, Bambi. I promise you that. Only we have to wait… just a little while.”
    “Forget it. News doesn’t wait. Larry Layton’s trial is going full tilt right now. Don’t you think this might have some bearing on the case?”
    “Not really,” replied Mary Ann. “He’s charged with murdering the congressman at the airstrip. DeDe left before any of that even happened.”
    “Ah … this treatment gets better all the time.”
    Desperate, Mary Ann threw caution to the winds. “Bambi … DeDe’s children are in great danger. Any public notice of this … situation could result in their death. I wish I could give you the details, but I can’t. I’m begging you … please give me a week to …”
    The newswoman laughed derisively.
    “Three days, then.”
    “Mary Ann … you have got to learn a little detachment, if you ever want to be a practicing newsperson. If those kids are in some sort of trouble, it’s a crying shame, but the public has a right to know about it. You can’t just pick and choose when it comes to news.”
    This was a load of crap, and Mary Ann knew it. The journalists she dealt with were picking and choosing all the time. “Can we at least talk before you tell Larry about it?”
    “We’re talking now.”
    “I mean, in person.”
    “Terrific. But you’re in Cleveland.”
    “My plane gets in tomorrow afternoon,” said Mary Ann. “I could meet you at my apartment at … say, three o’clock. This would help you, actually. I could clarify the things you’re not clear on before you present it to Larry.”
    “All right. But I’m definitely telling him about it on Friday.”
    “Fine. I really appreciate it, Bambi. Got a pencil handy?”
    “Go ahead.”
    “I’m at 28 Barbary Lane, apartment 3. If my plane should be a little late or something, my friend Brian will let you in. Please don’t say a word till then, O.K.?”
    “O.K.,” said Bambi.
    After hanging up, Mary Ann placed another call to Brian.
    “Hi,” she said grimly, “I’ve got a big favor to ask you.”

Clerical Error
    A S SOON AS HE RECOGNIZED PRUE’S VOICE, FATHER Paddy tittered through the grille in the confessional: “Really, darling, we can’t go on meeting like this!”
    Prue answered him soberly. “I want this to be … official,