Call Me Joe Read Online Free PDF Page B

closest to my heart, right up there for anyone to see. I've often thought that a truly perceptive person could look at that wall, my bookcase, and the contents of my pantry and know everything they'd ever really need to know about me. Fortunately, I don't know many truly perceptive people.
     
    I had six messages: two from Scott Landry about our fishing trip in three weeks, two from Lee that I had already gotten from home, one from Clyde's vet about his next check-up.
     
    The last one was from Art D'Onofrio, a Spokane attorney I had done a few corporate things for a year earlier. He was sitting on what he called an "odd" situation over near Colville and might need a fair chunk of my time, not urgent, at my convenience, and so on.
     
    "Ka-Ching," I smiled. Art paid well and promptly, as I recalled. I made a note to call him in the morning and drew a red line under it.
     
    As I left the office, Chip Carroll was just locking up at Carroll Kirk Brickhouse, the ad firm across the hall.
     
    "Boy," I smiled, "No perks at all for senior partners, huh? You're still locking up at 9:30 at night."
     
    Chip laughed and checked his watch.
     
    "Gets worse," he grinned. "I told Maggie I'd be home at 8:45. And I am not the senior partner at home. I'm somewhere below the grandkids, the cats, and a potted plant or two."
     
    "Why are you here, now that I've mentioned it?" I asked. "I haven't seen you in...a month?"
     
    "I just wined, dined, and slam-dunked a new account, m'boy," he smiled. "Dinner at El Gaucho, Cohibas, bottle or two of Shafer Cab, Warres '90 Port with dessert. The works."
     
    "Ouch," I chuckled. "Was your expense account air-lifted to Harborview after?"
     
    "Chump change, compared to what's coming the other way," he sighed. "Two-point-six annual budget for six years."
     
    "Jeez," I murmured. "I'm in the wrong line of work."
     
    "So come over," he shrugged. "I've always thought we could use a leg-breaker for those occasional slow-pays."
     
    "Waaal," I yawned, "I may have my own rather tiny gravy train after tomorrow. Attorney from Eastern WA, a man with a lightning checkbook, needs a goodly chunk of my romantically unencumbered time. I feel a rate increase coming on."
     
    "Bravo," Chip nodded. "Hey, how's about beers Friday, after the cows are in the barn?"
     
    "Done," I smiled. "Palomino?"
     
    "Nah," he frowned. "Like Yogi Berra said, 'Nobody goes there anymore because it's too crowded'. Let's do the ol' Virginia Inn."
     
    "I like it," I grinned. "Nostalgic."
     
    "Back to the days when we both had no money, eh?" he laughed.
     
    "Chip," I groaned, "I still don't have any money."
     
    "Okay, I'm buying," he snorted. "No money, my ass."
     
    I sighed and slapped him on the back. We walked out together and said our goodbyes at my parking space. I watched Leroy, an ageless black street musician who was there the first day I came to Seattle and would doubtless be there after I'm gone, tuning his ancient Martin on a bench in Occidental Square. He looked up and saw me and nodded, grave and silent as ever. Leroy rarely spoke and I once asked him why.
     
    "I speak all the time, man," he said softly, "I just do it while I'm singing."
     
    Hard to argue with that.
     
    
     
    The game had just ended when I reached the corner of South First and Royal Brougham, in front of the brewery.
     
    It felt strange not to be at the ballpark. I have season tickets and rarely miss a game. Tonight, though, I had promised Scott all four so he could take Pam's parents, from St. Paul, to watch the M's play the Twins. I heard the wrap-up on a sausage vendor's radio as I walked down Occidental. The M's won 11-2. I had a feeling it had been a long night for Scott with Pam and the in-laws.
     
    Lee was already at a table and had two ambers in place. I slid into a chair, picked up one of the mugs, and downed about a third of it at one go.
     
    “Well,” Lee smiled, “hello to you, too.”
     
    “I looked at you and looked at the beer