Jimmy Fox - Nick Herald 01 - Deadly Pedigree Read Online Free PDF Page B

tsk-tsked.
    “ I remember a time when I thought you were somewhat handsome, in a tragic-hero way,” Una said.
    “‘Somewhat’!?” Nick echoed as if hurt to his core.
    “You miss appointments, you don’t even answer the phone most of the time.”
    “It’s positively infuriating that you refuse to hook up that answering machine we bought you for Christmas,” Dion complained.
    “I mean, really, Nick,” Una said, “you’re living in the past, yours and mankind’s. It’s 1993, not 1893 or 1793. It’s a new world out there, full of possibility, and you’re stagnating, cutting yourself off! You need an infusion of fresh ideas.”
    “Hamlet asked Horatio to absent himself from felicity,” said Dion, “but only for a while. Haven’t you done enough penance?”
    Una continued the verbal assault: “You probably aren’t even aware we have a dynamic new president–”
    “You mean that guy”–Nick snapped his fingers–“what’s his name…Grover Cleveland?” Una was an earnest liberal, like most of his other former colleagues; he couldn’t resist teasing her for what he now saw as good-hearted naivety. He’d come to believe that we were all “useful idiots” to self-dealing narcissists in power, on either side of the left-right line.
    “That’s rich!” Dion shouted through the music. “But your cynicism has proved our point precisely. You’ve become a card-carrying member of the Party of Yourself–apologies to Walt Whitman.”
    “Okay, okay, I give in. What’s going on?” Nick asked. He had in fact tried to hook up the answering machine but had given up in frustration. They didn’t need to know that. Technically inclined he was not.
    “Dion and I have come up with a solution to your dilemma.”
    “A dilemma you’ve conveniently manufactured.”
    “Her name is Hawty Latimer.” Una let the name sink in a few seconds and sipped her daiquiri–her first drink to the men’s fourth. “She’s a junior, with a double major, English and computer science.”
    “I don’t like her already,” Nick said. “Computers?” He contorted his face into a grimace. “I hate computers.”
    “A Blakean nightmare vision, eh, Nick?” Dion asked through a mouthful of pretzels. “Our invention has made us its slaves.”
    “Be nice, now, Nick. Don’t be so quick to judge. She had a two-year scholarship, and now she’s exhausted her family’s ability to help her. What talent! Quite an overachiever.”
    “Una’s right, Nick. Seriously, I’ve read her stuff. Her papers are so well reasoned and innovative she could replace any one of about half our staff. For instance, that incompetent philistine–”
    “Dion, shhhhh! Someone could overhear,” Una cautioned.
    Dion bit his lower lip in suppressed rage. “Yes, yes, I’ll muzzle myself. Anyway, Hawty’s poetry is damn good, too. She’s an exceptional lass…and, uh, spirited.”
    “Spirited? What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick demanded, suddenly wary.
    “Her true intellectual loves are literature and history,” Una said, avoiding his question. “Good fit for you, right? And I’m certain she has a vocation for teaching. This past semester she taught an introductory English course. The kids loved her. The faculty review group gave her high marks, too. She had some, oh, slight medical problem, and missed out for a summer course. Nick, I’m afraid that this time, if she goes home–a tiny town in north Louisiana–she won’t be able to return. We’ll lose a fine future teacher. What you’re doing will mesh very well with her developing abilities and interests; and she could really, really use whatever small salary you could pay. By the time fall gets here, I should have some funding lined up for her.” Una held up crossed fingers.
    “Pay! You got to be kidding,” Nick protested with a laugh. “Most months I can’t handle my rent. Or as President Cleveland’s advisors would say, it’s about the economy, you well-intentioned