64. The Sound of Music

There wasn’t much to see, looking outward from our position at the edge of the parking lot rails. The park was nearby. The birds were waking up the hobos, the crows giving any who didn’t move quick enough a peck or two just to make sure. I didn’t feel like talking and neither did Sam, but I had to say something,

‘Look, Sam, just walk on out. Tell Steve you’re going to buy pretzels, corn dogs, even tampons. He’ll be so embarrassed, he won’t notice if you don’t come back.’

‘He likes me, huh? I noticed that. That might help later, don’t you think?’

It might have done, but I doubted it.

‘Maybe get something to eat anyway. Before the reinforcements turn up. There’s bound to be more before the cavalcade arrives.’

‘Corn dogs? What is it with you?’ She walked off towards SSA Washington anyway.

The main door of the Orphanage opened. A short, wimpled figure ran down the steps. When she reached me I saw her skin was as wrinkled as a sun-dried prune. She held out a hand.

‘Got a smoke?’ Her voice was as deep as the bass player’s from The Four Seasons.

‘No, Sister. I’m afraid not.’

‘It’s Mother Superior Innovacion, but you can call me Frankie.’

She took a half-crushed pack of Marlboro Lights from somewhere under her habit.

‘Just have to smoke these. No taste. No harm.’ She gave a cough that might not have been serious if you were under 80 years old.’

She lit up with a zippo with some or other military crest on it. After a deep draw, she blew a plume of smoke straight up at the sky.

‘Somebody up there must really hate me. Why do we have to have the President’s wife open the place? What’s wrong with the Chairman of the Rotary Club? Okay, so he’s in jail, but surely they coulda found some other schmuck? Shoot! Where’s my manners? Who’re you?’

‘Special Agent Kowalski, FBI.’

‘Really? They call you Special K? Ain’t that a drug? Or a cereal? Or both?’

‘People mostly call me what they want.’

‘I’ll call you Stanley, ‘cause you prob-ly look good in a singlet.’ She smiled and batted her eyelashes at me. I wondered how she’d ended up in holy orders.

‘Give me the run-down. How’s it going to pan out today?’

‘The harlot will turn up, make a speech and cut the ribbon. Some clown will hand out balloons, that’s it. TV’ll be here in a minute. I’d better go in and put on my makeup.’

She walked up the entrance steps, waving a hand and singing all the way. ‘So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye!’ Then she gave a phlegmy cackle that went full cough before she returned inside.