Vic Daniel 6 - As she rides by

taped beneath the runnin’ board.

    I T WAS twenty minutes later. I polished my spectacles vigorously, checked them, polished one lens again, put them on, peered around, then cleared my throat nervously.
    “To commence,” I said, “as we are all, with but one or two exceptions, virtual strangers to each other, perhaps we could, one at a time, identify ourselves and our interest in this affair. My name is Victor Daniel, and I am but a concerned citizen. My dog, King, awaits without. You are Miss... Shirley, was it?”
    “It was indeed, Mr. Daniel.” Evonne rustled her notebook impatiently. “I am here on behalf of the Los Angeles Department of Education, to whom a full report will be sent as soon as I have typed it up.”
    “Thank you. And the young lady next to you?”
    Sara jumped to her feet. “I am here in my official capacity as the newly elected President of the Wade Dean High School Christian Students’ Movement, which now boasts over two hundred members,” she began, improvising freely, I couldn’t help noticing. “Each and every one of us are willing to fight for true Christian values and decency. We are pepared to picket. We are prepared to march! We are prepared...”
    “Thank you, thank you, Miss, er...” I said. “Please save your full statement for later.” The twerp sat down reluctantly. From his seat beside her, Marv said laconically, “State Trooper Marvin Morrison, representing the Los Angeles County Sheriffs Department and also all concerned parents.” Which was news to me; probably to him, too. Then Father Romero said mildly who he was and where his church was, adding that it was perhaps obvious what his and the Roman Catholic Church’s interests were in the proceedings. He was followed by a skinny guy in a baggy, checked sports coat sitting behind him, who waved his notebook in the air and said loudly, “Harrison, Citizen.”
    “The Reverend Michael Lendon,” said a prissy voice next to him in a slightly strangulated fashion, as the starched white dicky turned out to be a size too small. “Representing the United Council of Churches and also founding member of the Keep Studio City Clean Committee.”
    “Never heard of it,” said Harrison, Citizen.
    “Be assured you soon will, sir,” Benny the Boy said politely. Then Dr. Chandler, adopting what I thought was a totally unnecessary ab-sentminded professor guise, stated who he was and what his present position was, and oh yes he did have several degrees and oh yes he was come to think of it a charter member of the California Historical Society and there was something else... now what could it have been... oh yes, an occasional consultant to the FDIA. What was that? Oh, the Federal Department of Indian Affairs. At which point he stood up, smiled benignly at me, scratched his head, and then sat down again. Beware of working with amateurs, I thought once again. Then Mel arose.
    “Melvin Jameson,” he said urbanely. “Attorney-at-law. Of the law firm of Melvin Jameson and Associates.” Associates—another new one on me—as far as I knew his only associates were a part-time secretary named Betty-Jean and a cleaning lady who came in once a month. “Representing the gentleman beside me, Joseph Half-Moon, descendant of the once far-flung Yokut tribe.” He gave Joe a little nudge; Joe nodded his head slowly once, then looked pleased with himself. I looked inquiringly in the direction of the remaining couple.
    “My name is Saul William Gall,” the man said, speaking with insulting clarity of diction and with a pause between each word, as if he was Dr. Livingston talking to Watutsi nomads. Saul William Gall was a short, compact man in his late thirties or early forties, with a deep tan, completely shaven head, and bright blue eyes that blinked more than eyes usually do. He was wearing no watch, no shirt, no socks, a fabulous sweater, cream in color, made of llama or camel or something, tight suede pants, and battered old loafers. Around one wrist he had a huge Navaho bracelet made from a chunk of turquoise the size of a generous scoop of cottage cheese, and a couple of pounds of Mexican silver. “I represent myself and my partner. It is our intention to construct and then operate an adult movie house, in full compliance with the law, on a tract of land we have full title to. Next to me is my associate, Ms. Garrison.”
    All eyes that were not already on Ms. Garrison turned to her. Ms. Garrison was six feet tall. Ms.