As Dog Is My Witness Another Aaron Tucker Mystery - By Jeffrey Cohen Page 0,1

fast, Aaron. We have to strike while the iron is hot.”

I picked up my canvas bag, and stopped halfway to the door, which meant I was only 50 yards from leaving the office. “The iron is hot? We have a hot iron?”

“I’ve been talking this up, Aaron,” he said, looking hurt. “People know me. They’ll want to know what I thought was so terrific. Make it better, and we’ll have ourselves a deal.”

“If my agent finds out I’m working on the script without an option agreement in place, she’s going to squawk,” I said, knowing full well that my agent, based in Cleveland, would have welcomed any interest in my scripts, even if it came from Hitler Wasn’t Such A Bad Guy Productions, and they wanted me to work for free, forever. Margot was not exactly what you’d call a scorched-earth negotiator.

“Don’t worry. I have confidence in you. You fix it, and you’ll have an option soon.”

Great. He had such confidence that he was sending me on my way to do more work on a screenplay he’d initially loved, and giving me no money to do it. I guess there’s confidence—and then there’s confidence.

I made the flight with a little time to spare, after having convinced the crack Los Angeles International Airport security team that the part-metal object in my pocket was a guitar capo, which it actually was. Unless they thought I could take someone hostage by changing their key, I presented no actual threat. The fact that everything in the security area was labeled “LAX” didn’t inspire overwhelming confidence, but I could only hope they knew more about who was a terrorist and who wasn’t than I did.

I got out my cell phone before the flight attendant made the announcement to turn all electronic devices off, something which still sounds to me like a line from a science fiction movie. I pushed the “1” button and held it for a couple of seconds.

Abigail’s voice, my favorite sound in the world, broke through from 3,000 miles away. “Hello?”

“This is an obscene phone call.” The woman to my left, in her mid-sixties, gave me an involuntary glance.

“Oh, good,” said my wife. “I haven’t had one in hours.”

“We aim to please. I’m on the plane.”

“Thank goodness,” Abby sighed. “I’m tired of being a single parent.”

“How are they?”

“Leah misses you,” she said. “And I’m pretty sure Ethan finally noticed you’re gone. He complained about walking the dog, but didn’t say it was your turn.”

“Well, it’s been four days. He was bound to catch on sometime. Have I gotten any work calls?”

“A couple from the Star-Ledger and one from Lydia at Snapdragon. She says they don’t have anything now, but she’s not forgetting about you.”

“Neither is Bank of America, and they want their mortgage payments made on time,” I groaned.

“I’m still gainfully employed, Aaron,” my wife reminded me. “We’re not getting thrown out on the street anytime soon. Oh, and you’ve gotten four phone calls from Lori Shery.”

That was odd. “Lori? What’d she say?”

“Just to call her back. She obviously doesn’t know you were away, and I haven’t talked to her. I just heard the messages on the machine.”

“She probably wants a free column for her newsletter, but she usually emails,” I said. It was odd that Lori would call, and four times in a day—I had talked to Abby the day before— meant it was important.” Well, there’s not much I can do from here. I’ll call her when I get home.”

“Which will be soon,” Abby said.

“It’s touching how much you miss me.”

“It’s garbage night, and Ethan can’t lift the cans all by himself.”

“Stop it. Your devotion is getting me aroused.” The woman next tome looked up at the “call flight attendant” button, and seriously considered pressing it.

Abby’s voice turned serious. “I’ll be glad to see you, honey,” she said. “You know that.”

“I miss you guys more than I can tell you in a public place,” I answered. “I hate being away.”

“How’d the meeting go? Did you get the option?”

I wasn’t interested in telling her what a bad negotiator I am.” They’re saying I have to turn off the cell, Abby. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

“That means no, doesn’t it?”

“See you soon, honey. I love you!” I hung up.

So I’m a bad negotiator, a liar, and a coward.

Chapter Two

The flight was, as usual, uninteresting. I’m not a fan of air travel, since I don’t actually get to fly the plane. Surrendering control of my life to someone