Page 23 of The Burnt
Charlie made his way to the kitchenette to clean up his coffee mug, and had just finished drying it when he heard the chirpthat signalled the ground floor door opening. A second chirp announced the opening of the office door.
Charlie stepped back into the main room and saw a woman looking at his piles of paper. She appeared to be in her early seventies. “Can I help you?” he said.
“Possibly. Is Declan in?”
“No. He stepped out.”
She looked at Charlie over the top of her glasses. “Do you expect him back any time soon?”
Charlie considered the question. “I’m not sure. He’s in the field at the moment.”
She nodded, but didn’t move.
“Perhaps I can help you. I’m his assistant, Charlie Watts,” he said, shaking her hand.
“Certainly not the drummer,” she said. “You are far cuter, and have a much firmer handshake.”
“Oh. So you’ve met Charlie Watts, from The Stones?” He had trouble concealing the scepticism in his tone.
“I certainly did,” she replied. “It was October 2005 at the Saddledome. I gave him the ride of his life later that night. Nice fellow, though. Still sent me a card on my birthday ’til he died.”
Charlie had been so engrossed in the woman’s conversation that he hadn’t noticed that the office door had opened and Declan had come in.
Declan was slapping his thighs from the cold. “Okay. I don’t care what they look like, I think it’s time I get a pair of long johns.” He stopped in his tracks. “Oh—my—God! Mrs B!” Declan yelled, then ran over to the woman, lifting her off the ground.
“Mrs Beckerman?” Charlie said.
“What are you doing here?” Declan asked. “I thought you were down south, tanning yourself on a beach somewhere with your new boyfriend.”
“I was ’til I realised how boring perpetual summer is. And as for Manuel…Well, he just wanted one thing, and it wasn’t fun. I just had to get back up here where life was normal.”
Charlie couldn’t believe it. He never thought he would meet the legendary Mrs B, the woman whose job he had taken six months ago.
“Charlie—?” Declan started to ask.
“Oh, sorry. Mrs Beckerman, can I get you something?”
“Just a small coffee, black. One sugar. And I’d love one of Gwen’s pastries if it isn’t too much trouble.”
Charlie nodded and headed down to the café on the ground floor.
* * * *
Declan ushered Mrs B to the couch. He moved several piles of paper off of it and placed them back on the desk. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab some plates and napkins from the kitchenette.”
When he returned, she was flipping through the magazines on the coffee table. “These are the same magazines that were here when I left. I’m going to have to let Mr Watts know that they don’t just replace themselves.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. He’s trying his best.”
“And I’m sure having to deal with you is a full-time job unto itself,” she said.
“You’d know, wouldn’t you.”
Mrs B smiled and nodded. She raised a single eyebrow. “Last time you emailed me, you said he was cute, but I don’t think you did him justice. And from the look in your eye, there’s something more going on here than him just answering phones.”
“As a matter of fact, that’s true. Charlie’s getting his PI licence and I’ve been shifting him into case work.”
“That’snotwhat I was referring to.”
