Charlie All Night Read online

  “I wasn’t. My great-grandson listens to that fool Harry the Howler and we kind of slopped on over into your show.”

  “Well, slop on over anytime.”

  “Will do, son. Good luck on savin’ that building.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to need all the luck I can get.” There was a click on the line, and Charlie spent a nanosecond cursing his lousy luck. He looked out the window at Allie, who was rubbing her head, probably as stunned as he was. He shrugged at her and went back to his regularly scheduled patter, steering as far clear of the city building as he could. “Of course, I’ve already had more luck than any new guy in town deserves. My first caller is a great guy like Eb, and the first lady I met in town yesterday is the kind of woman a man never forgets, even when she says goodbye, which she just did today. Fortunately, I’ve had a lot of experience with rejection. Anyway, this is for that lady who said I insulted her in the bar yesterday. Trust me, honey, I meant it in the nicest possible way.”

  Allie shook her head when she heard Patsy Cline slide into “Crazy.”

  “Very funny, Charlie.”‘ she said into the mike. “About the city building-”

  “I didn’t mean to, believe me,” he told her. “I thought it was just a nice, friendly kind of topic.”

  “Bill’s a backer of Rollie Whitcomb.”

  Charlie laughed shortly. “He would be. He’s just like my dad.”

  “Your dad backs mayors?”

  “My dad buys mayors.” Charlie swiveled away from the window to refill the cassette stack. “Oh, well, at least nobody’s listening.”

  Just me. Allie watched Charlie pushing the slides happily or the next half hour, playing music and talking to three callers who wanted to put in their two cents about the city building. Things were going well. In fact, four callers in the first half hour of a new show was phenomenal.

  They were safe.

  But safe made for lousy radio.

  She could fix that.

  Of course, they didn’t want to make enemies, but since nobody seemed too upset about the mayor’s brother, that wasn’t a problem. And Charlie was great with callers, absolutely brilliant. More people should know that. Of course, Charlie didn’t want to be famous. But this was a civic issue, he had a civic duty.

  And she wanted the show to be a hit.

  “I’m a slime,” she told Samsom, fast asleep in his basket. “A career-obsessed, pathetic slime.” Then she picked up a clear phone line and punched in the mayor’s phone number.

  * * *

  Charlie was feeling pretty good. He liked Eb and the three people who’d called after Eb, the console was state-of-the-art so it was a piece of cake to run, and it didn’t really matter whether he was a success or not at this hour of the night. And actually, it was fun. Once again his life was under control. He’d have all his days to track down that damn letter and figure out who wrote it, and then he could play radio at night until he finished the job and left in November.

  Life didn’t get much better.

  Then Allie’s voice came through his headphones. “Caller on line two.”

  “Who’s this one?”

  “The mayor.”

  He swung around to stare at her through the window, but she just shrugged and smiled and punched the button that transferred the call to him.

  “Who the hell is this?

  “Uh, Charlie Tenniel.” He shot an agonized glance at the digital readout on the console. Fifteen seconds till the last song was over.

  “Well, what the hell is going on down there? Where’s Bill? What is this garbage?”

  He sounded like an overbearing, handshaking politician. Charlie had met a lot of them growing up and he hadn’t liked them. Still, it wasn’t his job to make waves. “We’ve been talking about the city building, sir.”

  “Well, stop it. It’s none of your damn business.”

  Charlie took a deep breath. “Well, it’s the taxpayers’ business, since they’re going to be paying for it.”

  “Screw the taxpayers. You shut up about that building or I’ll have your job. I can do it, too, don’t think I can’t. Bill’s a good friend of mine. You just shut up, boy.”

  Five seconds. Charlie knew he was going to regret it, but laying low had been a lost cause as soon as the Mayor had started yelling. “We’re going to be on the air now, mayor, so whatever you say is broadcast. Might want to ease up on that ‘screw the taxpayers’ bit since most of them are voters, too.”

  “I don’t want-”

  “And welcome back, Tuttle,” Charlie said into the mike. “We’ve got a real treat tonight. Mayor Rollie Whitcomb has called in to talk about the city building. You’re on, Mayor.”

  “I’m what?”

  “You’re on the air.”

  “Oh. Well-”

  “Now, you want to explain again how you feel about the taxpayers and the city building?”

  Through the window he saw Allie put her head down on the producer’s console. Rollie must have been right about Bill. Oh, well, win some, lose some. He went back to listening to the mayor tie himself in knots. Public speaking was evidently not what had gotten him into office. His sentences didn’t seem to have any verbs, which was par for a politician. All nouns, no action.

  When the mayor wound down, buried under his compound subjects, Charlie stepped in. “So what exactly was the rationale behind the new city building, Mayor? I understand the new building actually has less space than the old one.”

  That set Rollie off again, babbling about heating bills, big windows, all that marble, and the stairs. Rollie didn’t seem to have a grasp as to why the last three were a problem, he just knew they were factors.

  “Anything you want to say about your brother, the contractor?” Charlie asked him when he’d sputtered to a close.

  “Fine businessman. Pillar of the community. Mason. Knights of Pythias. Proud to be in the family.”

  Rollie meandered on, while Charlie waited for a verb. “Does he have the contract for the city building?” Charlie asked when Rollie trailed off again.

  “Of course not. I don’t know. I don’t award contracts. Building committee. Stalwart citizens. Pillars of the community.”

  Charlie gave up. “Well, thanks for calling, Mayor. I’m sure Tuttle is reassured now.”

  “Proud to do my duty,” Rollie said.

  Charlie punched the cassette button and shoved the slide up and music came through his headphones. Unfortunately, it was Paul Simon’s “Still Crazy After All These Years.”

  He was screwed, as usual. He thought about it and began to laugh.

  * * *

  Allie sat stunned in the producer’s chair, not sure whom she was in the most trouble with-the mayor, Bill or Charlie. She’d thought that maybe talking with the mayor would boost Charlie’s credentials. The mayor could give his side of the situation and Charlie could discuss it with him. Serious talk radio. Maybe a nice mention in the Tuttle Tribune tomorrow since the mayor pretty much owned the paper.

  And then Charlie turned out to be a hell-raiser. Asking about the mayor’s brother. Sheesh.

  “You still there, Tenniel?”

  She adjusted her headphones. “Uh, no, he’s not, Mayor Whitcomb. This is Alice McGuffey, the pro-”

  “Well, you’re fired. And so is he.”

  Then all she heard was a dial tone.

  She sat back and tried to figure out the probable outcome of the mess she’d created. Bill wouldn’t fire her, she was pretty sure. He wasn’t that dumb, and if he was, Beattie wouldn’t let him.

  Charlie could be vulnerable, though. And it was her fault.

  All right, she’d just go in first thing in the morning and tell Bill she’d called the mayor.

  Then the phone rang and she got back to work.

  At one, Allie shut down the phone lines at Charlie’s request. By then he’d talked to eleven callers about the building, all of them telling him he was right and one asking if the mayor was drunk. “No, I think he always talks like