Hardly Working. Betsy Burke

or a forest or a beach is a place where animals and insects regenerate the species, I happen to think that it’s a nice place for a picnic.” I unzipped my deluxe knapsack to reveal plates and glasses, bread and cheeses, and a bottle of chilled white wine. “I came prepared for any eventuality. It’s a beautiful day. Let’s make the most of it.”

      “Right on,” said Lisa.

      We chose a section of beach just beyond the seawall and were just polishing off the bottle of wine when a man’s voice called across to us, “Dinah? Dinah Nichols?”

      I hit the ground like an infantryman under attack. “Who is it?” I hissed to Cleo.

      “Big-time corporate donor,” she hissed back.

      I eased up slowly, and when I saw who it was, uttered, “Tod.”

      He was dressed in jogging clothes and dripping with sweat. He looked less jaunty than usual. Unsmiling. “What a stroke of luck. I tried calling you at work but you weren’t there.”

      “You did? Uh…”

      “We have to talk. My place? Around four? It’s important.” Without waiting for my answer, he turned and jogged away.

      Lisa dropped me off at my car and I drove to Halliwell the printer’s. I pushed open the door. The shop seemed deserted. “Anybody here?”

      Halliwell’s voice came from a distance. “Downstairs.”

      I descended the narrow wooden steps and called out, “Mr. Halliwell?”

      He was standing at a press, watching the paper pile up, and didn’t bother to look up at me. He was tall and scrawny, more of a ghost than a man. Every word he spoke came out in a slow drawling taunt. “Well, I’ll be damned. Miss Nichols in person. I feel privileged.”

      “Don’t I always come in person?”

      “When I called your office to let you know the brochures were ready, they told me you were out and didn’t know when you’d be back. Tough job, eh?” He made the huge effort of looking at me from under one eyebrow.

      “Fieldwork,” I said.

      He took a few leisurely steps toward me, plucked a piece of dried seaweed from my hair and held it in front of my eyes. “Gives fieldwork a whole new definition.”

      “Well…uh…we are an ecological organization, Mr. Halliwell. We actually get out there and check up on the ecology.”

      “I can see you’re really making…head way. Get it?”

      “Can I see the brochures, please?”

      “Over here.” He oozed over to some shelves and picked up a pile of glossy green-and-white papers. “Still have to be folded.”