Page 41

Spencer thought that if you knew what job she held, you would think Britta looked professorial. But if you did not know her line of work, you would assume she was the chief justice of a top-secret court that put modern-day Nazis on trial and condemned them to death for not being Nazi enough.
The amigos froze the way rabbits will at the appearance of a wolf, and Britta said, “I asked myself where you might have taken rooms, and of course it would be in this place, such as it is.”
“What’s wrong with this place?” Rebecca asked.
Britta’s nostrils flared. “Do you not see what it says of you that you need to ask?”
“It’s a nice place,” Spencer said. “Back in the day, even Aldous Blomhoff ate here when he was both the director of the institute and the town mayor.”
“Is that your considered opinion, young man? Even after our phone conversation yesterday, do you cling to the illusion that Aldous Blomhoff’s patronage is any kind of recommendation?”
Stepping up to the guillotine, figuratively speaking, Bobby said, “It’s clean, cozy, and quiet.”
“Is that your position, Mr. Sham?”
“Shamrock.”
“Is that your position?” she pressed.
“Yes, I stand by it.”
“You’re all of a type,” Britta said, “but I can do nothing about that. What have you done with Ernest?”
“Done?” Rebecca asked. “We said goodbye. Then he died.”
“And you call yourself an actress.”
“Iaman actress,” Rebecca insisted, but more meekly than Spencer would have expected.
“I am content,” said Britta, “to allow history to make that determination.”
“That’s generous of you,” Rebecca said.
“It is my nature.” Scowling, she turned to Spencer. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
“Then it was a thought, was it?”
Spencer felt a little shaky when he said, “I wasn’t thinking anything.”
“In your case, that is perhaps a credible defense.”
“Thank you.”
“No doubt you know that, for patients’ privacy, there are no security cameras in the hospital wings where they lie abed.”
Spencer hadn’t known this, and neither had his amigos, and Bobby made the mistake of smiling in relief.
Detecting the smile in her peripheral vision, Britta pivoted toward Bobby. “You are amused, Mr. Sham.”
“No, ma’am.”
“You boldly deny it?”
“It’s just my face. It plays tricks on me.”
Britta Hernishen stared intently at him for a long and silent moment before she said, “However, there are cameras in the lobby and the parking lot.”