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Jerome grins. “Dingley Park.”
“Right-right-right. She needs security from the venue to the hotel, then to the field, then back to the hotel again. It’s for the insurance. Your sister suggested you. She says you’ve worked part-time with a local investigation agency.”
“Finders Keepers. As it so happens, the woman I work for is doing her own security work right now.”
“Barbara says she’s with the women’s libber.”
Based on what Holly has told him, Jerome thinks Kate would prefer the termpolitical activist, but doesn’t say so. “What kind of time commitment are we talking about, Mr. Kelly? Tones?”
“Just four hours or so. You meet her at the Mingo Auditorium around five-thirty PM, where she’ll be discussing clothes with her dresser—Alberta Wing. You then take her to the Garden City Plaza Hotel. Alberta has her own transpo. You have a car, right?”
“Sure.”
“Company car?”
“No, mine.”
“Fully insured, though? Collision, liability? Sorry to have to ask, but Global Insurance has got a huge policy on her. Fucking money-grubbers. Pardon my mouth.”
“No need. My boss feels the same, and we’re insured up the wazoo, both personal and company coverage. My boss gets a rate. Ours happens to be Progressive, not the Talking Donkey.”
“Yeah, I hate that donkey, all those big teeth. At the hotel, Betty will shower and change out of her rehearsal slops while you wait in our hospitality suite down the hall. At 6:15 or 6:20, you escort her downstairs. A car will be waiting. Alonzo Estevez, the hotel manager, has agreed to drive her to Dingley Park. You ride with her to the field, where I understand that a private dressing room has been set aside. She won’t be changing again, just wants some privacy before she does her thing. You with me so far?”
“Yes.”
“A little before seven PM, Red—her sax player—will accompany her to the pitcher’s mound. Red plays, she sings. You escort her back to the hotel, job done. What do you think?”
“Wouldn’t a cop be a better choice?”
“A cop is exactly what shedoesn’twant. What she wants is Barbara’s book-writing brother, who—according to Bets—happens to be Black and beautiful. I haven’t met you so I’m taking her word for the beautiful part. Sista B Concerts Ltd. will pay you six hundred dollars for your time.”
Jerome thinks about it, but not too long. “Okay, sounds good. May bring a colleague, if okay.”
“Sure, but I’m only authorized to pay for one. Are you and your, um, colleague coming to the show Saturday night?”
“That’s the plan. And I’ll be there with my folks. They can’t wait to see Barb on the big stage. Me too.”
“I’ll have seats for you in the third row,” Tones says. “First is too close, your ears will get blasted and your necks will get stiff from looking up. Only three? I’ve got the whole row reserved. The women’s libber’s party is coming, too.”
Jerome considers. He’s smiling. This is actually pretty cool. “Better make it eight. Barb’s aunts and their husbands will come from Cleveland if there are seats for them.”
“Family reunion, I like it, consider it done. Backstage passes, too. Get them at the Will Call window.”
“Thanks.”
“No, thankyou. I won’t see you Friday. I’ll be checking the sound and making sure the women’s libber doesn’t screw up our equipment once she’s done talking. The lady says she can work around the amps and mics no problem, but I’m from Missouri.”
Jerome has no idea what that means, so he just repeats his instructions—as Holly insists when working for Finders Keepers—and ends the call. He immediately makes another one.
“This is Happy,” John says. “Hey, J, what do you say?”
“I say I may not be able to do the whole game on Friday night,” Jerome tells him, “but to make up for it, how would you like to be part of Sista Bessie’s security detail?”
“Dude, are you kidding me? I pissed my didies dancing to her music, back in the day!”
“I’m not kidding. Plus comp tickets to her show on Saturday night, and backstagers. I’m getting six hundred and I’ll split it with you. What do you think?”
“What do you think I think? I am so there. Gimme the deets.”