Surreal continuing story: walking through doors and passageways

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1021

“Well, I’ll get to a more serious part first,” I say. “I just got a call from Don Clay—a local police lieutenant who is himself a DXM person—who said that Myrtle Fife, who got up and left the reception after I shpritzed Stout, was pulled over in the outskirts of town with a broken taillight. And her license was expired. By the time the cops were through they found she had a switchblade in the car—awkwardly jammed between the seats in front—and about $300,000 in counterfeit money in the trunk.”

“So what has happened that is less serious?” Jennifer asks.
“Well,” I answer, “we’d like you to meet the band I played for; my mother, Donna Niles, who made the jalapeño chili; and Eloise Sharp. She and her husband Jack, along with Betty and George Galloway, own the Morpheus Theatre.”

Jennifer greets my Mom. “Are you from Texas, Ms. Niles? I liked that spicy chili.”
“No,” Mom says. “I’m from Indianapolis. The chili is a family recipe.”

“And here are the Cigar Band members,” I say. “Jeanette Strong, Phil Ramírez, Jerry Britton, and the manager, Johnny Goss.”
Jennifer greets the group. “But—” she says, I thought you were with the Cigar Band—you were the drummer.”

Jerry and I smirk. “That was our undercover mission,” Jerry says. “We had a decoy plan: In order to attract Stout and Fife to the wedding, we switched appearances and gave the impression that Alice Terwilliger was unescorted as the Maid of Honor. Petrus and Loora Oranjeboom used sorcery to switch _______’s and my appearances. He played the drums at the church, and I stayed at Ms. Sharp’s home.”
By now our whole group has come into the conference room. Eloise’s husband and kids, her daughter-in-law Joanie, and her grandson approach, along with the Oranjeboom family. We introduce Jennifer to all of them.

“And now,” Loora says, “Since the wedding is over, _______ and Mr. Britton shall be restored to their regular appearance.”
She says “bippity-boppity-bornt” and Jerry and I regain our regular appearances. Jennifer is impressed. “I had heard about a Dutch sorcerer couple out here in DXM,” she says, “but I never knew their names. Oh, Hannah, when are you due?”

“Within a week,” says Loora’s daughter-in-law. Jennifer recognizes Cornelis, of course; he and Artie Brown detained Ms. Elster at the reception, and now Cornelis pushes his wife’s wheelchair.
We fill Ms. Elster in on everything, now that we know she is not a turncoat. Lemoyne; Red Nicholas; the recent missions; Lady Calley and her cohorts; and the upcoming benefit.

We also introduce her to Sylvia Goldstein, Lorraine Adler, and George Stanhouse, who have just come in. Of the three, Jennifer seems to hit it off best with the young reporter, who even dresses similarly. She stays with the three; Alice and I, seeking a break, cross the room to an overstuffed chair. I sit down and Alice sits on my lap.
“When did Don Clay call?” Alice asks as she clasps my hand.

“Just a moment after Jennifer left the room,” I say. “He called on my cell phone. This was while you were speaking off to the side, with Joan.”
“Oh, that’s right,” says Alice. “She said we should go bright and early to the high-school administration office, to meet Elwood and Mr. Harvey, the vice-principal.”

I lightly stroke Alice’s hair and say, “I suppose Coach Hades will want to pester you as well as me.”
Alice kisses my cheek and says, “It doesn’t matter. Lois Green [the principal’s secretary Alice will substitute for] is quite efficient—all the teachers respect her and she won’t disturb the principal for a petty matter such as a football coach’s complaints. And that English teacher Mr. Spratt has always resisted coaches’ intimidation and cajolery. We owe it to the school and the League to do likewise.”

We cuddle like this for a littler while, until Jennifer approaches, with Joan. “I was delighted to hear about your engagement,” she says. “And, Alice, unless I miss my guess, you have experience with British intelligence.”
“I certainly do,” says Alice, her arms wrapped around my neck. “We were only formally invested as DXM agents earlier this year and we’ve been on several missions already. The school shtick is a change of pace.”

“I know Elwood Olyphant,” says Ms. Elster. “We grew up in the same neighborhood in Fort Wayne.”
“So Joan filled you in on the mini-mission?” Alice asks.

“Yes,” says Jennifer. “Joan also told me Ms. Adler’s boss, the editor Myron Skagg, is a DXM person too. So I’ll pose as a reporter gathering material for a feature article.”
“And she has met us,” says Leo, hovering nearby with Ulrica, Thurlow, and Luigi.

Jennifer greets the ghosts, and then she comments on our group, particularly the Oranjebooms and The Cigar Band.

1022

I should have said that Myrtle Fife left the wedding ceremony after I shpritzed Thurman Stout… :o

1023

“This is a slightly weird assortment.”

“How so?” I ask. “Because we have ghosts, sorcerers, and talking cats?”

“Oh, no,” Elster answers. "Those are a dime-a-dozen in the DXM. It’s because your group includes…

1024

“…people of such diverse descriptions.
“I see, for example, a blond woman who looks as though she’s going to be indecent if she should sneeze; two big husky men dressed like lumberjacks; another petite, dark-haired woman, who appears to be left-handed; and an older man who looks like a member of the cast of The Cosby Show; well—it seems to be a highly integrated group. I mean ‘weird’ in the sense of ‘out of the ordinary.’”

Alice and I call the people Jennifer described. They are Mary Blonda, Joe Bradley, Stan Brown, Louise Brown, and Fred. They all greet Jennifer.
“One particularly unusual situation involves the Sharps,” I say. “Jack and Eloise and their kids.”

The fifteen Sharp kids, whose clothing and hair are not alike at all at this time, approach with their parents. Jennifer stares at the sight.
“These are all your kids?” says a surprised Ms. Elster.

“You’ve never seen a large family before?” asks Eloise.
“Oh—well, yes, I have,” says Jennifer, reminiscing for a moment. “I remember a woman in Indianapolis named Bertha Engle who had ten kids.”

Now we go out to the seats. Among those who have just returned to the Morpheus are Dr. Clouse, Thalia Hoffmann, Phoebe Atwood, and Latonya Moreland, Fred’s daughter.
We go through some rehearsals, including Lloyd Werdin’s “queen-is-dead” bit, the five husbands in penguin getup, Kwisp & Kwake doing “Anything You Can Do,” Prester John’s Aunt, and The Cigar Band, with Jerry back at his drums. Jennifer, sitting with Alice and me, notices Lorraine, Stanhouse, and Sylvia taking notes.

“That older bearded man sure did a weird shtick,” Ms. Elster says.
“It’s derived from a confrontation we had with Lady Calley,” I say.

“Oh, I see what you mean. Minerva Calley crossed my path a few times. And that Italian man and that Dutch woman are sure an ill-assorted pair. I remember seeing her in the conference room. You said her name is Tina?”
“Katrina,” says Alice. “That’s Katrina Oranjeboom, Loora’s elder daughter. And she’s twelve.”

  • “Twelve?!* Now that’s weird!” says Jennifer, startled. “She looks like twelve going on 21! And who is that boy she’s sitting with now?”
    “That’s Bobby Blonda,” says Alice. “Katrina is really outgoing. She appointed herself his girlfriend. Bobby’s mother is the woman in the ill-fitting white blouse.”

Jennifer is amazed more and more by what she sees and hears.
Now we have another visitor, Elwood Olyphant. His hair is now in a style more resembling Nipsey Russell’s. He approaches, wearing a jogging outfit. He approaches Alice and me. Jennifer greets him. I notice Latonya nearby, smiling shyly.

“I have to get your signatures so the college can release your transcripts,” he says. “Oh, Jen, how about yours? I understand you’re posing as a reporter.” (He is outside of Lorraine’s earshot, fortunately.)
Jen says, “Yes, Elwood. I’ll download mine from Northwestern’s site when I can.” She turns to Alice and asks, “Is there a computer here?”

“Yes,” Alice says, “In Mr. Sharp’s office. Just ask Jack, Eloise, or one of their older kids. Oh—speaking of which, George is coming on stage now.”
George Sharp sets up for a magic act. He’s accompanied by Anna Luglio and Susan Bradley, in tank tops and black jeans. He deftly goes through a staged series of fumbles with the two girls. He pulls Anna—fully clothed—out of a top hat on the table; then Anna takes George’s hat off his head and pulls a rabbit out; she calls little Jack Sharp II, who carries the rabbit to a cage in the wings. Now Susan takes a wand and waves it; George and Anna are wearing each other’s clothing. Everyone busts up laughing—including Eloise.

We adjourn to the lounge now, while Eloise and Jennifer use the computer. Jennifer rejoins us in the lounge. Now we meet with Sylvia, Dr. Clouse, Phoebe, Thalia, and Latonya. Jennifer hands the papers to Elwood and he leaves. Buster sits with me as Alice joins the other women.
“An upwardly-mobile group, to be sure,” Buster comments.

It’s evening now. In the morning we’ll go over to the high school, and meet with Elwood and Mr. Newman. Now the group of women approaches Buster and me; Alice sits on my lap again. Jennifer, Jeanette, and Latonya sit facing us.
“I’m impressed with your group—perhaps ‘weird’ was the wrong adjective,” says Ms. Elster. “Certainly Sylvia and Ms. Adler—that reporter—are flourishing in nontraditional careers. And Jeanette here is obviously one of a kind.” Jeanette, puffing on a panatela, reacts modestly to the compliment.

“Oh, I wanted to tell you all,” says Latonya. “I just got hired at…”

1025

the architectural firm of Dakota & Shandor. I’ll be starting a week from Monday."

“That’s good news,” Jeanette comments. “What kind of buildings do they design?”

“All kinds,” Latonya answers. “but mainly large multi-story office buildings and apartments. In fact, they have a reputation for being rather unique and off-beat with their designs. By the way, do you know where my father is? I want to tell him about this.”

Alice tell her…

1026

“He went into Mr. Galloway’s annex, with Dr. Clouse.”
“Oh, yes,” says Latonya. “I remember now.”

Alice explains to a startled Ms. Elster about Duke’s surprise attack on Fred at the Sharps’ mansion, including Loochy’s corral and computer, the simian kickline, the police activity, and Eloise’s reprimand to Duke.
“I wondered why I saw that bandage on Fred’s neck,” Jennifer comments.

“Oh—Latonya, I think that gives me a basis for my presence at the high school as a reporter,” Jennifer says.
“What do you mean?” Fred’s daughter asks. We’re now walking toward the Galloway annex—Alice, Latonya, Jennifer, Jeanette, Mary Blonda, and I.

“Well,” says Jennifer, “what can any of you tell me about the buildings at the school?”
“Oh, I see,” says Latonya. “Several of those buildings, including the auditorium, the gym building, and the shop building, are at least sixty years old. I don’t recall seeing them mentioned anywhere in print, at least not since I started at the school myself.”

We all reach the annex area. Alice points out the gym room. We go in; Fred is lying on his back on a bench, pulling weights hanging from long cables over pulleys. Dr. Clouse is there, supervising. She also watches Don Clay, his leg still bandaged; he goes through stretching exercises for his legs. We approach Fred. He finishes with his exercises, and stands up. Latonya approaches; they embrace.
“Hi, honey,” he says as they do so. She tells him about her new job.

“That’s great, Tonnie,” Fred says. He turns to us and says, “Stella Shandor and I were friends in high school. Stella introduced me to Lucretia, Latonya’s mother. I only found out a few years ago that Stella had set up an architectural business with Norm Dakota. I don’t know much about him, though.”
We fill Fred in about what we’re ready to do; whatever Parker and Breastly hadn’t already told him.

“That’s a good idea—even if Jennifer is posing as a reporter. Whatever data Tonnie can gather about ‘unique’ buildings at the school will be a plus.”
Don Clay is attracted by our conversation. He has finished his day’s series of exercises and, with a chrome cane, he steps over to us.

“Jennie?” he asks. “Jennie Elster?”
“Don!” she says, greeting him. “Good Lord, man, what happened to your leg? You look like you were in a shootout!”

“I was,” he says. He turns grim. “Three Threshold bigwigs tried to rob a local bank. Two are in critical condition and one was DOA at the hospital.”
We all sigh glumly about this.

Now, Jennifer engages in a long discussion with Dr. Clouse, out of our earshot. A couple of times Laura glances toward me—with a puzzling gleam in her eye.

Comes the morning. Alice, Jennifer, Latonya and I get up bright and early to go to the school. After a hearty breakfast prepared by Samantha and Lupe, and a briefing for Jennifer from Myron Skagg III, we head out to the high school in Alice’s talking Beetle; Car engages Jennifer in an absorbing conversation. Alice, Jennifer, and Latonya wear smart blouses and skirts, with matching pumps; I wear a plain gray sack suit with white shirt, tie, and black shoes. Every time I look at Alice I blush. :slight_smile:

We go into the administration building and head straight for Harvey Newman’s office. Elwood is there with him; the vice-principal has a DXM ring himself. Elwood gives Alice and me forms to fill out, including W-2 forms and membership applications to the faculty union.
“Nothing unusual, really,” says Elwood. ______, you go to Room 314—down that corridor. Alice, just go over to Ms. Green’s desk; I left a schedule for you in front of the computer. It’s booting up now.”

Jennifer and Latonya approach; Jennifer uses Debbie Monaghan’s thumb-to-the-neck gesture and gives Mr. Newman a password; the vice-principal acknowledges.
She says, “I’m Jennifer Elster from the Courier-Times; this is Latonya Moreland from Dakota & Shandor, Architects. I’m doing a feature article on the historical buildings here.”

Newman acknowledges with the thumb-to-neck gesture himself. I embrace Alice briefly; she sits at Lois Green’s desk to do secretary stuff in Ms. Green’s absence; Jennifer and Latonya go out to the auditorium. Meanwhile, I leave the building and go to Room 314. On the way, outside, I encounter the government teacher, Alfred Wayne.

1027

“Excuse me,” he says, “but you look familiar. Do you have any children that go to this school?”

“No, I don’t,” I reply. “I don’t have any kids.”

“Really,” Mr. Wayne says. “What about relatives? Because I swear you look like you could be related to this one boy from LA who was just here a short time ago.”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s just a coincidence,” I answer with a flat tone of voice. “I don’t have any nephews or cousins who go here.”

Alfred Wayne sighs and says, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It is just a coincidence. By the way, I should’ve asked you this earlier, but what’s your name?”

“____ ______,” I answer.

“Pleased to meet you,” he says reaching out his hand so I can shake it. “My name is Alfred Wayne. I teach government.”

I shake his hand and think to myself that I’m about to get out of this potentially awkward encounter. This wishful thought, however, evaporates when Alice walks through the door and immediately makes unplanned eye contact with Mr. Wayne. For a second, they motionlessly stare at one another. Then, Mr. Wayne says…

1028

“You resemble another of my current students. Your name, please?” he says in a cordial tone of voice.
“I’m Alice Terwilliger. I’ve been engaged to substitute for Ms. Green today.”

[Aside: When Paul Terwilliger came in to register his daughter “Andrea,” he disguised his British accent. I probably should have noted earlier that Alice, as “Andrea,” did not use a British accent either, thanks to her own ingenuity and Loora’s sorcery. It probably doesn’t matter anyway, since during the high-school mission, nobody commented on Andrea Torrance’s “accent” anyway. —dougie_monty]
Alice’s English accent gets Mr. Wayne’s attention right away. “You sound as though you just arrived from London,” he says.

“I was born there,” says Alice, “but I’ve been in the States for about 18 years.”
“You don’t say,” Mr. Wayne comments.

“I forgot to bring you the keys for Room 314,” Alice tells me. “I also have the spring schedule. And while I’m at it, Mr. Wayne, I have your book of study material for American Society.”
(In California high schools, American Society is the second semester; the Government class is only the first semester. Both are required for graduation.)

Alice carries two such binders. She hands one to Mr. Wayne and one to me.
“If you’re both employed by the school, I’m surprised I never saw you before,” says Mr. Wayne.

“Mr. Newman has our background information,” says Alice courteously.
I use ESP on the teacher. He thinks That damned flaming liberal Newman.

“Well, Mr. Wayne says to us, “I’d like to talk to you later—I have grading to do.”
“So do I,” I say. “Mr. Spratt had his classes write themes shortly before Christmas vacation.”

“I’d like to join you for lunch at the local burger emporium,” says Mr. Wayne.
“Burger emporium?” asks Alice.

“Yes,” says Mr. Wayne. “Burger World, about a mile away. It’s not your average fast-food place.” He turns to go. “If you can be there about 1 p.m.”
“Very well, Mr. Wayne,” Alice and I say in unison. Mr. Wayne heads for Room 208.

Alice and I walk toward Room 314, a short distance away.
“‘Not your average fast-food place,’ he says,” I comment. “That’s where I was imprisoned by a reality warp, one year ago today.”

Alice smiles and clasps my hand. “Oh, it’s not that bad,” she says. “In fact, Burger World is a cut above the McDonald’s class of hamburger places. I’ve been there myself a time or two, while you were occupied elsewhere. Jeanette and I went there when you left the group in Father Abromowitz’ office.”
“Oh,” I say, “I didn’t know you’d been there yourself.”

“Yes, I have, Luv,” she says. “Don’t worry about it. Oh, I have to go back to the office now, but I’ll meet you in the parking lot. We can go over there and meet Mr. Wayne at 1 p.m. I’ll call Jennifer and Latonya.”
No one else is around—well, I sense the presence of Thurlow Skagg, hovering somewhere nearby. I give Alice a kiss and hug and Thurlow playfully jeers us. Alice returns to the office.

I get to Room 314. I see a large cardboard box of school papers, with “Themes—R. Spratt” written on the side with a felt-tip marker. I sit down and start to grade them.
Joe Rodríguez’ theme, from Mr. Spratt’s third period class, is on top of the pile. I sigh at the childish scrawl he writes in; the theme is supposed to be on Julius Caesar by Shakespeare, but I notice that Joe filled it with references to football! I take a note pad to prepare my comments to Joe, that I’ll write out in longhand on the theme itself in red pen.

Almost as if on cue, Coach Hades appears, about to come into the room. He has a facial expression suggesting he’s about to try to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge. He glances at me, when another teacher calls out to him, “Mr. Hades…”
He speaks briefly to the other teacher and then says, “Excuse me—I’ll be back this afternoon,” just before he does a double take and walks out of view. I acknowledge his statement.

I continue grading papers until about 12:40. It’s easier during the holidays when there are no classes. I figure that if Coach Hades tries to cajole me I’ll stand my ground and use plain speaking. This is especially so when, from the themes, I can tell there are quite a number of students—in Mr. Spratt’s third period class, as well as others—who earn their grades. Now I lock the room and return to the administration building to check out. I meet Alice, Jennifer, and Latonya in the parking lot. We drive to Burger World; Jennifer tells us what she’ll include in her notes and show to Mr. Skagg. We get occasional comments from Car.

We get to Burger World and park. Mr. Wayne isn’t there yet, but we meet Mr. Galloway—and Jeanette—on the way in. Mr. Galloway seems kind of smug and I sense he owns the place. Jeanette wears a crimson flannel dress and white pumps and looks quite fetching herself—not like the Goth kid “Junie Sondergaard” who may have gone to Burger World during the earlier mission. Mr. Galloway wears a light green suit. We go inside; Mr. Wayne will just have to catch up with us. And in the distance I see a Buick Wildcat pull onto the lot—followed a moment later by George Sharp’s battered, but smooth-running, van; he’s apparently brought several of our group over.

The place is modern and well-lighted. The menu is varied, including things like pastrami sandwich, BLT, and chili size. We approach a window. Clayton Chisum appears; he looks a little more mature, and better mannered, than I remember him being. He sees George Galloway and reacts appropriately. Mr. Galloway motions to the statuesque Jeanette to order first.

1029

“I’ll have a grilled chicken sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and hot mustard,” she says. “And, to drink, I see that you have Green River here so I’ll have a medium Green River.”

In rote fashion, Clayton takes Jeanette’s order. I’m next, so I proceed up to the counter. When I do, I notice Clayton looking at me with a sense of deja vu. He knows he’s seen me before but can’t place me. A sliver of the alternate reality we were stuck in is still in his mind.

“Um … sir, what will you have?” he asks with awkward politeness.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger with ketchup and mustard only,” I reply.

“Do you want fries with that?”

For a second, I shudder as I recall that my job in the alternate reality included cleaning out the fryer.

“Oh … no,” I answer. “I’ll just have a large Diet Coke with my burger.”

“Let me total that up, sir,” Clayton says as he begins to peck at the register. He still seems a bit perturbed. This fact is underscored when he…

1030

…keeps hitting the wrong buttons on the register. Finally, he pulls himself together, rings up the order, and opens the till.
“That’s $6.43.”

I take my wallet out and hand Clayton a five and a one. Then I hand him two quarters. He hands me a nickel and two pennies—and two quarters!
“You gave me too much change, Clayton,” I say, noting his name on his uniform shirt. I speak with an amused chuckle. He gives me an embarrassed smile as I hand him back the quarters.

“Are you all right, Chisum?” George Galloway asks.
“Yes, Sir—I’m all right. Just a little nervous, that’s all.” Then he takes Mr. Galloway’s order, a BLT and a cup of coffee. Clayton hands Mr. Galloway, Jeanette, and me our order slips.

Now we step aside for Alice.
She says, “I’ll have the pork tender sandwich, a milk, and a small side of fries.”

Clayton somehow seems more relaxed at this point, although the presence of Alice makes him blush.
“That’s $6.77,” says Clayton.

Alice removes her billfold from her purse. She hands Clayton a five and two ones.
Clayton pokes at the register keyboard. He opens the till and hands Alice two dimes and three pennies, along with her order slip.

Now George Sharp comes in with Susan Bradley, Claudia, Brian Brown, and April Blonda. They act like typical high-school kids, including George, who is in his third year of college now. They chat and laugh on the way in, including Claudia, who communicates with Susan and Brian in ASL. They step up to Clayton’s window; just then I see Mr. Wayne exiting his car, the Buick, on the lot. He comes in and gets in line behind George’s group. I use ESP to pick up a whispered comment by young Mr. Sharp—“It’s old man Wayne!”

Just at this point, Jeanette, Mr. Galloway, Alice, and I get our orders and go to a table near the back corner of the room; a few tables around us are vacant. We sit down.
“Clayton is really a good kid,” says Mr. Galloway.

“He sure was rough on me in the alternate reality,” I comment, sotto voce, before chomping on my burger.
“You should see him in this reality, at peak lunch hour, when he directs his full crew,” Mr. Galloway points out. “He’s rough, yes, but he has to be, even here, or the crew he has would pull him down. They really botched things up two days ago. He made them all work two hours overtime to clean up a big mess.”

Meanwhile, George Sharp and his group have been ordering. I see Claudia signing to Brian, who gives her order to Clayton. Then Mr. Wayne gives his order.
George and his group get their stuff—the usual burgers, fries, and shakes or soda pop. They approach us and take two tables nearby; they act as a buffer between us and the other people in the place, so we can discuss DXM matters in private. I notice that there seems to be a strong attraction between Brian Brown and Red Nicholas’ shy, deaf descendant. I even see that Clayton glances for a moment at the slight blond girl.

I notice now that Mr. Wayne has ordered a shrimp dinner and eats at a table just past George Sharp’s entourage.
“So what’s going on with Coach Hades?” Mr. Galloway asks.

“He approached Mrs. Halloran’s office about nine this morning,” says Alice. “I wouldn’t let him go in. He started to put his hand on his wallet—as if he were going to ‘make it worth my while.’ Then he stopped when I gave him a tacit warning—just a look. Then he shrugged and left. How did you deal with him, ______?”
“He came to Room 314 when I was grading themes,” I say. “I guess he wanted me to give Joe Rodríguez a grade he doesn’t deserve. He had a con man’s demeanor. Then someone else called him away and he said he’d return to Room 314 after lunch.”

“He very well may,” says Jennifer Elster, now sitting near us with Latonya; they just have plain burgers and bottled water. “He spent hours in his gym office—writing God knows what. I went to the gym to talk to some other coaches. He was writing on a large note pad on his desk.”
I notice that Susan and Brian have been signing to Claudia, even when nobody at their tables is speaking; I assume the two are translating our words to Claudia. Oh, well…

Now Mr. Wayne, in a gray business suit, approaches. There is a vacant table adjacent to ours, and he sits down, leaving his lunch. He sees George Galloway.
“Er…Mr. Galloway?”

“That’s me, Mr. Wayne,” Galloway says. “What’s on your mind?”
The teacher hesitates, as though suddenly afflicted with dry mouth. He sees Jeanette—and I notice she gives him a hardon, which is no surprise. George Sharp and his group have their attention riveted on Mr. Wayne, who, I assume, has been the government teacher for all the kids in the group except for April and Brian, who are not seniors yet. Jennifer and Latonya also face Wayne.

He finally pulls himself together and manages to speak…

1031

“I was just wondering if you could tell who that young woman who’s sitting with you is.”

“Who?” Galloway asks. “Alice?”

“No, I’ve met Alice,” Mr. Wayne explains. “I mean that other woman in the red dress.”

“That’s Jeanette,” Galloway replies.

“Well … uh … would you mind introducing me to her?” Mr. Wayne awkwardly requests.

Galloway thinks for a second and says…

1032

“This is Jeanette Strong, the guitarist from The Cigar Band.”
“The Cigar Band?” asks the teacher.

“The same,” says Jeanette with a smile. She removes her billfold from her purse and extracts a business card from it. It reads:

THE CIGAR BAND
Popular music and Panatelas
Since 1996
[address in Stamford, CT; e-mail address and phone number]
Jeanette Strong, guitar and vocals
American Federation of Musicians

“Labor unions,” says Mr. Wayne with a sigh.
“You sound disappointed,” says Jeanette, puzzled.

“I don’t care much for the idea of unionizing musicians,” says Mr. Wayne with a hint of Rush Limbaugh in his voice.
“Are you a musician?” asks Jeanette with some irritation.

“Well—no,” the teacher says, his embarrassment showing. In fact he starts to look away.
Jeanette is courteous enough not to pursue the issue.

Now Wayne tries, rather awkwardly, to change the subject.
“Your address is in Stamford, Connecticut,” he says innocently. “What are you doing in California?”

“We’re rehearsing for the AIDS benefit performance at the Morpheus Theatre on South Bradford Street,” says Jeanette. Mr. Wayne’s face lights up.
“I’ve lived in this area all my life,” he says. “I’ve known about the Morpheus for many years, and I heard about two men named Smedley and Sharp who owned the place.”

“Jack Sharp is my Dad,” says the young adult George, who had been in Wayne’s class a few years before.
A little more at ease now, Mr. Wayne says, “I had heard about that place being restored.” He smirks. “There have been stories circulating, about a man more than 120 years old living in a cavern beneath the theater, and owning more than a million dollars’ worth of gems and precious metals. It’s all poppycock, of course.”

Yeah, it’s all poppycock, we all think to ourselves. :wink:
“Actually, I’d like to come out and visit during your rehearsals if I may,” Mr. Wayne continues.
“Sure,” says Mr. Galloway. “Just show an ID to one of our people at the entrance. That’s Artie Brown, Mike Bradley, or Cornelis Oranjeboom.” The teacher recognizes the names.

“I think Artie and Mike are in my classes—and Mr. Oranjeboom was in my class about five or six years ago. He was dating a Dutch girl named Hannah Goes.”
“He married her,” says Alice, who now gets misty-eyed. “Hannah is expecting any day now.” Mr. Wayne is delighted with this news.

“Well, tell him I said hello,” the teacher says, before he returns to his table. “Oh—and, Mr. Galloway, have you met three kids named Dennis Montrose, Andrea Torrance, and Junie Sondergaard? They suddenly disappeared about two or three weeks ago.”
“I don’t know anyone with those names,” Galloway says carefully. “I’ll contact you if I meet them.”

“Thanks,” Mr. Wayne says, acknowledging all of us. He goes back to his lunch.
I can see the anger in Jeanette’s gray-green eyes.

How dare he…belittling the musicians’ union like that…he has not walked a mile in our moccasins… without the union we’d be slaves or coolies, Ms. Strong thinks to Alice and me. Jeanette can get angry, but she keeps her temper under control. George Sharp and his friends got an earful, too, and they now give Mr. Wayne an angry look. Jennifer and Latonya are irritated too.
“Look,” I say, “We’re going to have to get back to the school now. We’ll deal with Alfred Wayne later.”

Our group breaks up. George Sharp and his entourage return to the van; Alice, Jennifer, Latonya, and I go back to Car. Jeanette and Mr. Galloway drive off in his big Starfire.
“I bet that teacher is a snob,” says Car as we drive away. “His Wildcat sure is.”

“How about Mr. Galloway’s Starfire, Car?” I ask.
“Very polite and dignified, and civil,” answers Car.

We return to the school. Alice, Jennifer, and Latonya stay in the administration building; I go back to Room 314. Sure enough, Coach Willy Hades returns. He wears a sweatsuit and an old baseball cap; he carries a plain clipboard and a thick notepad.
I have resumed grading Mr. Spratt’s themes. I sense also the presence of Thurlow and Leo.

Skagg comments telepathically, I wonder what he’s up to this time, _____.
We’ll soon find out, I reply.

The coach has regained the demeanor of your basic snake-oil salesman. I’m ready for this. He greets me and identifies himself.
“I’m _______,” I say. “I’m substituting for Roger Spratt.”

“I see,” says the coach. “One of my linebackers is in Spratt’s third-period class—Joe Rodríguez.”
“Yes, I know, Coach,” I answer. “I’ve been grading the kids’ themes on Julius Caesar. I shake my head in disappointment, and I speak plainly. “Rodríguez is likely to flunk English with the work he’s been handing in.”

1033

“Well, can’t you kind of give him the benefit of the doubt?” Coach Hades pleads.

“I’m afraid on his last theme he’s nowhere near passing,” I explain. “In fact, it doesn’t look like he’s even trying. Judging from his paper, I wouldn’t be surprised if he just read the book jacket and bulled his way through the assignment.”

“You have to understand that football takes up a lot his time,” the coach tries to rationalize. “He’s probably our team’s most valuable player.”

“That may be true,” I say, “but that doesn’t excuse him. There are several other football players in this class and none of them got below a ‘B’ on their papers. I almost think that Mr. Rodriguez expects to receive at least a ‘C’ for just showing up every now and then.”

Coach Hades chuckles when I say this. Apparently, he knows my assessment of Joe is right on the mark.

“You certainly are right about that,” he says. “Joe Rodriguez believes he’s going to coast through life just because he’s damn good football player and, so far, nobody has ever tried to shake of that delusion.”

“Now is probably a better time then later,” I state. “Eventually, he’s going to have to learn that everything can’t be handed to him on a silver platter.”

“That might be true,” Coach Hades replies, “but I’d rather you hold off on dropping the big ‘F’ on him now.”

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“Well, let me state that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room,” the coach begins. "The reason why you must pass Joe Rodriguez is because…

1034

“…I got an offer from a university in the Midwest—I’d rather not say which one at this time. They’ve sent scouts to various high schools, including this one.”
“Somehow, Coach, I sense there is a deal in the works,” I say. I give a telepathic message to Leo.

“Well, I’ll level with you, ______. The athletic director there said that if I can get Rodríguez there on a football scholarship, I have a coaching position waiting for me there myself.”
This raises my hackles.

And now I see that Leo has delivered. Alice and Jennifer have tiptoed up to the open door, and they stay out of Hades’ view.
“Now I’ll level with you, Coach Hades,” I say, not batting an eye. “I pointed out to you that Rodríguez expects everything to be handed to him on a silver platter. Well, it’s clear to me that you have that same attitude!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” growls the coach.
“I’ll tell you what I’m talking about,” I say sternly, looking him square in the eye. “I happen to know you’ve been coaching here for 19 years. Good God, Hades, you should know better than that! And another thing—Mr. Spratt’s classes have plenty of honor students who work hard for their grades, along with those other football players who do pay attention. Rodríguez is no dummy—I’m sure you know that—and he’s been on the varsity squad for three years. If he had the proper attitude he’d pay attention in class instead of writing drivel like this!”

I show Coach Hades the theme Rodríguez handed in on Julius Caesar. He reads the childish scrawl on the two pages and nods.
“Now don’t you think a high-school senior is capable of better thought and effort than that, especially considering how well he handled plays during the Templeton game?” I say, returning Rodríguez’ paper to the pile.

“Er—well…” the coach stammers, “they need him on the squad—their best lineman graduated last June…”
Then Hades takes out his wallet. The eyes of Alice, Jennifer, and a third person I hadn’t noticed before flash with anger.

“Mister, you’re about to make a serious mistake!” I exclaim.
Hades resumes the con-man demeanor.

“Look, I know you substitutes don’t make very much money…”
I am unmoved. “Coach, I don’t know how much money you make—but I don’t think you could afford to have me press a charge of attempted bribery against you!”

Hades now turns angry. He says, “I gave you your chance!” and charges me. I manage to hold him back.
“You lay one hand on me, Hades, and you will regret it—I am only too eager to pursue an assault-and-battery suit against you…”

He throws me to the ground, knocking my glasses off. I see him about to step on them, and I grab them out of the way. I’m not hurt, but I’m furious. Alice and Jennifer gasp. They run into the room.

I stagger to my feet. Alice rushes to me. She says, “Are you hurt?”
I manage a smile. “No, Honey, I’m not hurt,” I say. She hugs me.

“Get out!” hollers Hades to Alice and Jennifer. “You broads have no business here!”
Alice and Jennifer look Hades square in the eye.

“We just made it our business!” snarls Alice.
Hades now acts as if he wants to punch Alice.
“All right, that’s enough!”

We all look toward the doorway. Mr. Newman, the vice-principal (and a DXM member, Alice and I know) stands in the doorway, with Elwood.
Hades freezes in his tracks. “Elwood, take this down,” orders the vice-principal. “Hades, you are suspended as of this minute. Ms. Terwilliger, Mr. _____, if you want to press charges against Hades, you may do so in my office.”

All the rest of us glower at Willy Hades.
“_______,” says Newman, “Do you have any more grading to do for Spratt?”

“No, Sir,” I say. In fact I had finished with the themes—just before Hades came into the room.
Elwood leaves. I return the cardboard box full of themes to a chair next to Mr. Spratt’s desk. All of us, Hades included, leave the room, and I lock it. We all leave the building and return to the administration building—Alice, Jennifer, Mr. Newman, Hades, and I; I also notice Thurlow and Leo floating along.

We go to Mr. Newman’s office. Leo and Thurlow hover, invisibly. I see Hades waiting in the corridor outside the office, brooding glumly.
As Mr. Newman processes the incident, he tells Alice and me, “You may wish to discuss this with Parker and Breastly later on.”

Jennifer Elster speaks up. “I heard everything you heard, Alice, _____, Mr. Newman. I think I have enough material to give Lorraine.” She apparently has gathered information for both a feature article on the school and an exposé of Coach Willy Hades.
“Well, I comment, “I guess I’m less concerned with nailing Hades for assaulting me than I am with stalling his efforts to give Joe Rodríguez an undeserved grade.” I’m sure Alice will have something to say to Parker and Breastly herself; I was sure angry to see Hades try to hit her. :mad:

In a few minutes, we leave. Our mini-mission is over. Newman calls Hades into his office. Elwood has returned to his regular work. Alice, Jennifer, Latonya, and I return to Car.
We drive back to the Morpheus. Plans are moving right along for the benefit; Harry Rudolph appears and shows us an updated draft of the flier, including Kwisp & Kwake and Jack Sharp II—but not giving featured billing to Gwen.

Now, Parker and Breastly arrive and Alice, Jennifer, and I meet with them in Mr. Sharps’ office, along with Buster and Fred, to discuss today’s mini-mission.

1035

“Basically, Hades tried to get me to pass Joe Rodriguez even though we both knew he didn’t deserve it,” I explain. “When I refused, he tried to bribe me then–when I turned him down–throttle me. Alice and Jennifer got involved and Coach Hades threatened them too. Finally, V.P. Newman intervened and busted Hades on the spot.”

“Thanks,” Parker says. “You all did a great job. In fact, thanks to Hades’ quick temper, this whole matter was resolved a lot sooner than anticipated.”

“Did you know Hades would try bribe and assault ____ to keep Rodriguez on the team?” Alice asks. “He must have been really desparate to resort to tactics like that.”

“Desparate is an understatement,” Parker explains. "You see…

1036

“Hades is, as _____ noted a while back, the most guileless of Threshold’s operatives. In fact, until he was swayed by the organization’s overtures, he had been scrupulously honest—that’s one reason he stayed at the high school for so long. In the time he has been the head football coach, ______ High has had six championships and five second-place finishes. And he has been well-known for keeping slackers, bullies, and druggies off the team.”

“I guess Threshold chose him because he’d be a perfect cover,” says Jennifer. For all of his blustery nature, he was a positive role model. But as it turned out, he could be reached.”
“Well, that seems to wrap up the matter,” says Parker.

“Oh,” I say, “What about that lockbox?”
“What about it?” asks Parker.

“Well, after the squirrels stole it out of the closet, Olivia said she figured anyone with a crowbar could pry or smash the box open. You said the fragile contents would make that an unwise idea…”
“Well, yes. We used ESP to determine what was inside the box, of course. And that chemist Walt Ryson is also a cryptologist—he broke the code and deftly unlocked the box.”

“So what is in it?” Alice and I ask.
“A bunch of engraved crystal baubles, a Fabergé egg, and some small gold ingots,” Joan says. “All of them are encased in little lacquered wooden boxes which are lined with cotton and vinyl, and all have messages inscribed on them—more vital incantations and special messages. The cotton and corn silk that the original Smedley had wrapped them in had long since rotted away; the last person to handle the box before it was buried under the gym, replaced the little containers.”

“Who was that?” Buster asks.
“That was Jared Smedley,” Parker says. “He did that about five years ago. Then he forgot about the box, so it is said, and moved to Idaho.”

“And the box is with Dr. Ryson now,” says Alice.
“Precisely,” says Joan. “The inscriptions are in Latin. Ryson doesn’t know Latin very well; he’s made copies of the text on the baubles and the ingots, to give to our language specialists. And before you ask, the cryptogram on the bottom of the box was from English, not Latin.”

“Could you ask Ryson to give me a copy of the inscriptions?” asks Alice. “I prefer to think that I can translate Latin quite well.”
“Sure thing,” Joan says. “I’ll contact Walt later today and ask him to e-mail the Latin texts to you.” I hold Alice close. :slight_smile:

Joan now hands $1000 checks to Alice, Jennifer, Latonya, and me, for our work in the mini-mission. We thank her.
“Oh, one last thing,” I say to Parker. “Did Hades have any ulterior motive in his effort to get a passing grade for Rodríguez?”

“No, none at all,” James answers. “He’s still waiting for his chance to coach college football. That Midwestern college he mentioned to you, was his only serious offer in the last several years.”
“Pity,” I say.

“Well, let’s get back to the seats,” says Joan.
“Did you ever get that newsletter Angus mentioned?” I ask.

Parker smiles. “We sure did, _____,” he says. “Here are copies.” He hands Alice, Fred, Jennifer, and me copies of the DXM Clarion, December 2003 issue.
“The next one comes out this February,” Joan explains.

We now go back to the stage area. The rehearsals are continuing, in order to polish routines.
Now Olivia Short appears, with an older woman who resembles her and carries a large attaché case with a treble-clef emblem on it. They get up on stage. Olivia switches a microphone on.

“This is my mother, Irene Short,” she says. We all applaud.
“Are you a performer, Mrs. Short?” asks Mary Blonda, who, of course, is the benefit’s director.

“No; I’m an orchestra conductor. How many of you play musical instruments?” We who play raise our hands.
“I’d like you to compose a combo to open the show—play and sing ‘Another Op’nin’, Another Show’ from Kiss Me, Kate.”

We musicians gather in the first two rows; we’ve been passing the newsletter around to other DXM people present. Arthur and Daniel set up all of the musical instruments on the stage, as Mrs. Short directs. And again, George Stanhouse (with Iggy), Sylvia Goldstein, and Lorraine Adler—holding notes Jennifer gave her—sit in the front row.
“Now I’d like to have each of you give your name and your musical specialty.” We do so, in no particular order.

“Jeanette Strong, guitar and vocals.”
“Alice Terwilliger, piano.”
“Jane Bradley, C&W vocals, steel guitar.”
“Loora Oranjeboom, drums.”
“Jerry Britton, drums.”
“Phil Ramírez, bass guitar.”
The introductions continue.

1037

[BTW, just so nobody gets the idea I’m illiterate, I am aware I mispelled “desperate” in my last entry. And now, on with the story…]

“Gwen Berry, piano, guitar, and vocals.”
“____ ______, guitar and vocal,” I state.

For a few seconds, there’s silence as Mrs. Short waits for the next musician to come forth.

“Is there anybody else?” she asks.

“Yes, I play the cowbell,” a voice in the back says.

“Who said that?” Mrs. Short says.

“Oh, I did,” says the voice who belongs to a figure who emerges into the aisle. "I’m …

1038

“Vera Tedson.”
Vera, of course, is one of my friends from the “pre-Alice” era. She approaches, wearing an overcoat over leotards, leg warmers and flats. She sits on the aisle; she even carries a large cowbell, which she sounds once. A few of us giggle.

“Tedson?” asks Mrs. Short. “I think Olivia mentioned you a time or two. I was trying to remember where I’d heard the name before.”
“My family made it up,” says Vera, who speaks with a light Russian accent. “We’re from Moscow. Our name was originally Fyódorovich, and we anglicized it when we became American citizens.”

Mrs. Short now asks, “Are there any other musicians?”
People speak up. Johnny Goss stands up and says, “Johnny Goss, vocals.”

“Laura Clouse, M. D., vocals.” [Mrs. Short notes that a physician is a performer here and gives Laura an approving nod.]

“Amy Dolan, drums, trumpet, and vocals.”
Lena Martínez, bass guitar.”
A small voice pipes up, “Jack Sharp II, piano.”

We react with delight.
“Stand up, please, Jack Sharp II,” says Mrs. Short.

The seven-year-old boy sits on the aisle in the second row. He stands. We give him a round of light applause. He blushes as Maureen McTavish, sitting next to him, kisses him on the cheek.
Mrs. Short now says, “Well, that’s enough musicians for now. We seem to have quite a few guitarists.”

I speak up. “Mrs. Short, I got that wrong. I play the piano and the string bass, not the guitar. I also play drums.”
Jerry Britton smiles.

“When did you play drums?” asks Dr. Clouse.
“I appeared up in Sebastopol a few years ago with the Russian River Rats.”

Mrs. Short is delighted. “I saw them last week in Daly City! They’re doing just fine! If you know them—I thought I’d tell you that Bill Talbot finally got that interview.”
“With whom?” I ask.

“Forsaken Warborn,” says Mrs. Short.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I say. “She had avoided letting Bill interview her for years.”

“Who’s Forsaken Warborn?” asks Mary Blonda, wearing a particularly threadbare blouse.
“She’s a very old woman who has been the subject of geriatric studies at the UC campus in San Francisco,” I say. “I believe she is 106 years old—and in remarkably good health. She is skeptical about journalists and doesn’t like to grant interviews. Bill Talbot is a journalist and anthropologist, as well as manager of the Russian River Rats, and has tried for about ten years to get an interview from Ms. Warborn.”

When I give this description, Mr. Parker and Lorraine Adler seem particularly interested. I sense they have both heard of the old woman.
“We’re going to have a break now,” says Irene Short, after speaking briefly to Mr. Stanhouse and Mary Blonda. “I want the musicians who introduced themselves to assemble onstage in 45 minutes.”

She now goes up to the back row to talk to Olivia, Carl Sharp, and her husband Randolph. Alice and I sit together; we read the newsletter.
“Here’s an interesting article,” says Alice, “under the title ‘CARTESIAN MAXIM ALLUDED TO IN CALIFORNIA?’ It reads:

*League official Boris Gogol, chief of the East Europe office in Moscow, has researched certain phrases appearing in member operations all over the globe. Gogol, a philosophy professor at the University of Moscow, noticed a similarity between the famous maxim of Descartes, Cogito ergo sum (“I think, therefore I am”) and the mutated quote from Shakespeare’s Tempest, “We are the dreams stuff is made of” that appears in the West Coast operations of new members Alice Terwilliger and ______ _______, combating the faltering adversary organization Threshold and its affiliates. For details, contact James Parker, Joan Breastly, or Fred Moreland, c/o West Coast Office, Galaxy 100 Mall, ______, California. *[e-mail address follows.]

“It’s rare to see my name in print,” says Alice. I squeeze her hand.
“Likewise,” I say. “This may also allude to the suggestions we’ve had from such as Red Nicholas, about me being in a dream state.”

“Let’s not go into that now,” says Alice, with a smile. :slight_smile:
Now Ms. Short returns to the stage and calls us musicians to come up. We gather on stage and she hands us each sheet-music books, all opened to the same page. I note that there are three pianos on stage. Mary Blonda, her buttons straining to hold her blouse closed, watches from the center seat in the front row.

We go over to the instruments; I stand at Joe Bradley’s string bass. We look at the music on the page the books are opened to.
I’m puzzled. I tell Alice, “This isn’t the number from Kiss Me, Kate.” She nods.

1039

“You’re right,” Alice says as she examines the notes. "This is something completely different. It’s–

Alice pauses and a disturbed look appears on her face. I closely look at the page and soon find out why she’s so disturbed: it’s the song were supposed to play. They’re going to perform…

1040

“Dark Lady,” a song recorded by Cher in 1973. The accompaniment, as I note on the pages for string bass, is heavy, fast, and dissonant. The lyrics, of course, tell of a woman who visits a fortune teller. The medium tells her:

“My advice is that you leave this place,
“Never come back and forget you ever saw my face…”

We shrug, however, and go through the song, once. Jeanette and Dr. Clouse sing the lyrics, in two-part harmony, which, because of the difference in their voices—Jeanette’s contralto and Laura’s mezzo-soprano—has a particularly haunting aspect.

“Then I remembered her strange perfume
“How I smelled it was in my own room!
“So I sneaked back and caught her with my man
“Laughing and kissing ‘til they saw the gun in my hand…”

We finish playing the chorus once, and then hit a cadence. And then—
We all hear a terrifyingly loud, high-pitched shriek, as if a banshee has just had a heart attack! :eek:

Some of us react by screaming.
And then silence.

We on the stage are so upset by this we are about to drop. I decide I need to sit, down, and go over to sit on Alice’s piano bench; we wrap our arms around each other, as if to protect ourselves. I see little Jack Sharp II about to cry, and Johnny Goss—the third pianist—is almost passed out.

Then Ulrica Werdin appears, at the back of the stage.
“I’m going to tell you all what happened,” she says. “Someone—or something—was just exorcised in or near Room 7 of the Old Grange Hall.”

Randolph Short stands up. “It must be something,” he says. “I locked the building up tight.”
We all pull ourselves together. Eloise and Joanie come on stage to comfort little Jack; Jeanette and Johnny hold each other close. I fix my ESP on Room 7 of the Grange Hall building, the J&J Pie Shop.

“Ulrica,” I say, “Mr. Short is right. There is no one inside, or near, the building.”
“Then it must be someone in my realm—or perhaps someone connected with that business has just died,” Ulrica says.

Loora Oranjeboom has been lost in thought, ever since she pulled herself together.
She says, “Cher’s song included the lines,

  • ‘She dealt two cards a queen and a three,
    “‘And mumbled some words that were so strange to me…’*
    “Pete and I have been translating Madame Zoozoo’s book of ‘Incantashuns You Cant Not Do Wifout.’ Those lines from the second verse are, as it happens, in that book, as a description of a potent incantation, that can kill even the most powerful evil spirit!”
    “Well, Loora,” says Ulrica, “It’s likely that a major element of Threshold—already tottering—was zonked by the musicians playing ‘Dark Lady.’ Apparently all you musicians spoke that deadly incantation!”

“How would it have applied to the J&J Pie Shop?” asks Mary Blonda.
“All of the musicians were facing Irene Short, the conductor,” Ulrica answers. “Her husband is the caretaker of the Grange Hall building—it’s likely some specter was following him around!”

“I wish there were an authority we could consult about that,” says Alice.
“There is,” says Dr. Clouse. “Forsaken Warborn.”

That puzzles us. “Where is she?” I ask.
“She has been living in the Astorbilts’ mansion for several months now,” says Dr. Clouse. “Like the Astorbilts, she’s loaded. She has attendants and nurses working for her around the clock. Ever since Bill Talbot’s interview—and he continues to visit her—she has been much more cordial to people and has even considered joining the League.”

We now call it a day for the rehearsals. Alice, Joan Breastly, Dr. Clouse, Jennifer Elster and I go to the Astorbilts’ mansion across town, in Car, who is also interested in the matter and chats with us.
We get to Burnished Oaks. Jeeves, the butler, greets us; he remembers us well. Dr. Clouse explains the purpose of our visit. The high-toned butler says “Very well,” and leads us to Ms. Warborn’s suite upstairs. (The Astorbilts’ mansion, incidentally, has an elevator built in.) He announces us:

“Miss Alice Terwilliger; Dr. Laura Clouse; Ms. Joan Breastly; Ms. Jennifer Elster; Mahster _____ ______.” He goes on his way.
The 106-year-old Ms. Warborn greets us; she sits up on a satin futon, holding a glass of Perrier. She looks like an aged Tallulah Bankhead. Dr. Clouse introduces us to her.