The Sourdough Wars

won’t press any against him.”
    “Dad, he hit me. And he fired at Rob.”
    “Now, darling, don’t get all upset. No way is the DA going to drop the gun charge. But the other thing is like any other misdemeanor assault with no witnesses. You say one thing and Jones says another—it’s not worth pursuing.”
    “But, Daddy, I’m the one with the bruise.”
    “Sometimes we just have to compromise.”
    I sighed. It wasn’t the compromise I minded so much—it was the feeling of losing control of my life. I was nearly thirty years old, and here I was saddled with a problem secretary chosen by my mom, who was now trying to choose my boyfriends for me, and furthermore, my dad was fighting my battles. But I am nothing if not a good daughter. I resigned myself to my fate and put it out of my mind—I was going to go out and buy something pink for spring and think about it tomorrow. Like Scarlett O’Hara.
    I said, “Okay, Dad. Whatever you say.”
    “It’s really for the best, darling. Sometimes these things just happen.”
    “I know, Dad. I said okay. I want you to know I’m very grateful for what you’ve done for me.”
    “You don’t sound very grateful.”
    “I’m grateful, Dad. Really.”
    “Beck, you got a bad blow on the head last night. Maybe you should see a doctor.”
    “I’ll think about it. Dad. A shrink, maybe. Right now, I’ve got to get some coffee.”
    “Coffee really isn’t the answer, you know.”
    The top of my head was going to fly off if I didn’t get off the phone, but I couldn’t hang up on my own father. I started counting to ten, silently.
    “Beck, are you still there?”
    “I’m thinking about what you said, Dad.”
    “That’s my girl. I wish we could talk some more, but I’ve got a client.”
    “Gee, I wish we could, too, Dad. ’Bye now.”
    ’Bye and whew! Now for that coffee and then I. Magnin. But Kruzick came in with a long white box from Podesta-Baldocchi. “Roses are red and so are Commies; stay out of bed and you won’t be a mommy.”
    “Alan, you shouldn’t have.”
    “Boss, oh, boss, with bruise so fine, won’t you be my valentine?”
    I looked at my watch, which tells the date as well as the time. It really was Valentine’s Day, and I’d forgotten all about it. “Not,” I said, “in a million years.” And I took the box and opened it.
    It contained a dozen long-stemmed white roses. “Somebody thinks you’re dead,” said Alan. The card said,
Couldn’t find a white flag
.
How about these
? It was signed,
R
.
    I was about to dump the whole schmeer in the circular file, but Alan was too fast for me. He took back the box and said, “I suppose you’d think it demeanin’ to my masculinity to ask me to find a vase for them, but I knows my duty, Miz Boss. I sho’ly do.” I think he felt guilty about the tape.
    I picked up my cup and started to walk toward the coffeepot, which was in the minuscule reception area, when the door opened for Inspectors Martinez and Curry.
    “Morning, Miss Schwartz. Heard you got in a little trouble last night.”
    “How sweet of you to drop by. I had a nice tour of the sixth floor, thanks. I should have let you know I was coming. You could have baked a cake with a file in it.”
    Curry looked blank. Martinez said, “We heard you stopped a burglary in progress.”
    “Oh, Inspector, I should have realized—you’ve come to give me a medal.”
    “Could you just tell us what you saw, please?”
    “A guy trying to break in the back window.”
    “You’re sure it was a guy?”
    “No question about it.”
    “Race?”
    I shook my head. “Never got close enough to see.”
    “Height and weight?”
    “Tall. Maybe a hundred eighty pounds.”
    “About what time was this?”
    “About nine o’clock, I guess.”
    “Nine o’clock.” He paused. “We didn’t get the call from Jones until nine-forty-five.”
    I shrugged. “I meant nine, give or take.”
    “What happened between nine and nine-forty-five?”
    “The moon came up, I think. Some mothers put their kids to bed, and others helped with the homework. One or two guys scored in singles bars, and, oh, I guess a lot of folks watched ‘Simon and Simon.’ ”
    Curry smiled, but Martinez quashed him with a look. “This is homicide, Miss Schwartz.”
    “You mean Larson died? I just beat him up a teeny-tiny little bit.”
    “Miss Schwartz, I’m trying to investigate a homicide and you are interfering with my investigation.”
    I thought of saying,