The Last Word Read Online Free PDF Page A

better coming from you.”
    “Okay, I’ll take care of it,” I said.
    “I want his new sweaters to be tasteful,” Slayter warned me. “Not like the last time.”
    The previous holiday season, Slayter had asked me to buy Charlie a Christmas sweater.
     He meant a sweater for Christmas. I interpreted it more literally and purchased a
     red knit number with snowflakes and snowmen stitched over the fabric, creating a terrain
     not unlike a relief map. I thought it was fun; Charlie loved it and wore it for a
     week straight until Slayter made me make it disappear. Seriously, I had to steal it
     from Charlie and pretend it was lost in an overheated cab ride. Charlie spent half
     the afternoon phoning cab companies while it was at the bottom of my parents’ trash
     bin. We called it Sweatergate. Charlie still talks about it.
    •  •  •
    Maybe now would be a good time to tell you about Charlie Black, navigational consultant.
    I met Charlie on the steps outside of 101 Market Street maybe eightmonths ago while I was surveilling Edward Slayter. To kill time, I was studying a
     chess book that my ex-boyfriend Henry Stone was making me read. Charlie asked if he
     could interest me in a game, swiftly pulling a chessboard out of his backpack. I agreed;
     he won in about three minutes flat. As I continued my surveillance of Mr. Slayter,
     I kept running into Charlie, since my surveillance took me to his haunts. I discovered
     that Charlie was intelligent in a very particular way, unemployed, lonely, and trustworthy.
     When I discovered that Mr. Slayter had Alzheimer’s we embarked on our unusual partnership;
     I suggested Slayter hire Charlie as an assistant to discreetly make sure Edward was
     at the right place at the right time.
    As it turned out, Charlie and Slayter got along swimmingly despite their epic differences.
     Edward is wealthy, handsome, charismatic, prone to suit-wearing, and quite powerful;
     Black was a public servant made redundant who passed as a homeless person who played
     chess on the streets until his latest gig, and has been known to wear the same outfit
     five days in a row. The only thing they have in common now is their driver and chess.
     Charlie is a good companion for Slayter; he doesn’t have a problem with nervous chatter,
     a habit Slayter has no patience for, and he can navigate the streets of San Francisco
     with the best of them. His feel for social terrain is far murkier.
    Because of this fact, Slayter will often leave the more delicate conversations to
     me, which is silly, if you’ve met me. I’m not exactly famous for mincing words, although
     I’ve made a marked improvement.
    Slayter and I parted in our usual fashion.
    “I’ll see you Friday,” Slayter said.
    “Friday doesn’t work for me,” I said to deaf ears.
    Edward’s driver pulled up and attached Charlie’s bike to the rack that had been recently
     added, and the three men got into the Town Car and drove away. Charlie waved a cheery
     good-bye as I staggered over to my beat-up Buick, crawled into the backseat, and took
     a short nap.
    •  •  •
    So far, all I’ve mentioned are hostile takeovers, jogging, and wardrobe disturbances,
     which serve up only an appetizer in the world of Spellman Investigations. Let me be
     clear: Before we’re a dysfunctional company and family, we are investigators, and
     no matter what personal or professional conflicts simmer, our work does indeed take
     priority.
----
    1 . I realize this is open to interpretation.
    2 . Not that this isn’t perfectly normal male behavior, as I’ve been told repeatedly.
    3 . I had an overnight surveillance and got only a half hour of sleep. The inside of
     the dress had obvious stitching and seams exposed. I have no idea how I managed to
     drive to his office, take an elevator, and walk down a hallway without noticing.
    4 . I have been using this excuse for years and it’s always worked. And no, I don’t
     feel bad about it. And you won’t