Real Men Don't Bark at Fire Hydrants Part 6

"Huh?"

He explained what he meant. Then he said, "I didn't think he spotted me.

But if he did..."

"And he knew where he was going," said Bert.

"So if he figured you were going to keep on following him," said Rocky.

"And if he didn't want to bother shaking you off his tail..."

"Then he knew where I was going to be. All he needed was a chance to make a call." And he had ducked into that real estate office and the music store.

Perhaps the first hadn't let him use its phone.

5. What Do You Do with the Leftovers?

"I'm hungry," said Bert Camen.

"There's a place I like just up the street," said Rocky Forte.

"I'm staying here."

"Mickey!" Her tone was both fond and exasperated. "The guy's just another flake!"

"I've got to be sure." He peered toward the hotel lobby. There was no sign of a Bullwinkle or an Elvis, much less the backwards singer who had led him here. "When he comes out..."

"You'll follow him," said Bert. "But he won't be out of there till two.

You've got time."

Mickey Gorgonzola let himself be persuaded. Ten minutes later, they were entering the Willow Wallow a block away. Its chairs and the backs of its booths were wicker. One wall bore a mural that depicted a broad river, drooping willows, a rowing sh.e.l.l, and a hippopotamus.

"I wish I could see the hotel," said Mickey.

"It's just around the corner," said Rocky. "And he'll still be there when you get back."

A waitress approached them with a fistful of menus, glanced at Kilroy, and said, "You'll want a booth."

"By the window," said Mickey.

She looked at him skeptically. Why would a blind man want a window seat?

But she obliged, and it wasn't long before she had their orders.

"You should be back in your office," said Bert. "That proposal..."

Rocky sighed. "I know he's been working on it for awhile, but I haven't seen it. How far along is he?"

Bert snorted, but before he could speak, Mickey pointed at the window. "You both think I'm off my rocker. But look at that hydrant."

The hydrant was perhaps fifty feet away from them.

"So?" asked Bert. "It's a hydrant."

"Watch."

An executive had just stopped facing the hydrant. He had no silver in his hair, and he wore a thin mustache, but otherwise he looked much like the one that had caught Mickey's attention the day before. He was even doing the same things, laying his attache case flat, opening it to hold his suitcoat, arranging a legal pad for his knees, and kneeling.

"Jesus," said Bert when he began to bark. "I can hear him from here."

"Who gets the hash? The bangers and mash?"

The plates the waitress set before them were heaped higher than Mickey had ever seen. "My G.o.d," he said.

"They don't believe in starving people," said Rocky.

Despite the hunger he had claimed earlier, Bert barely touched his food.

Instead he kept watching the scene outside the restaurant.

"Would you look at that?" he said.

"That" was a b.u.m wrapped in a ragged overcoat, his hair bulging from beneath a derby with a fist-sized hole in its greasy crown. He was marching across the street toward the hydrant-woofer and waving a cane over his head.

When he reached his goal, he smacked the man across the b.u.t.tocks with the cane.

"He used a rope yesterday," said Mickey.

The executive did not look at his attacker. But he did stand up, put his suitcoat on, and restore his legal pad to his attache case. Then he walked off with as much dignity as if nothing at all had happened.

"Who? The b.u.m?" asked Rocky.

"Didn't I tell you that?" While they ate he made up for his deficiency.

"That's a little much for coincidence," said Bert when he was done.

"Then I'm getting to you? You agree something strange is going on?"

Rocky set down her fork and waved a hand at her plate. It still held more food than most restaurants delivered to the table. "But no s.p.a.ce aliens," she said. "Nuts."

Mickey fished a piece of meat from the remains of her lunch and dropped it under the table. It never touched the floor. "You're jumping to that conclusion."

"And you're jumping to the opposite one."

"At least I'm trying to find out if I'm right."

"Everything okay?" The waitress was back. "You want dessert?"

Rocky and Mickey were both shaking their heads. Bert said, "That was an awful lot of food. What do you do with the leftovers?"

The waitress shrugged, picked up their plates, and walked toward the mural wall, where she set them down on a low table. Then she picked up a large spatula, scooped the food from one plate, and slung it at the wall. Mashed potatoes, chunks of sausage, and green beans covered the hippopotamus's head.

The contents of the second plate obscured the rower in the sh.e.l.l. The third covered a boulder near the river bank.