Jan Burke - Dear Irene

“No, Zucchini Man came on the scene a little later. As you can imagine, I quickly tired of lugging the things around, so I was happy when the contest deadline arrived. I declared a winner as quickly as possible, gave out the check for one hundred dollars in prize money, and prayed I’d never see another squash of any kind. I had become the butt of a lot of newsroom jokes.

“However, this one participant was very unhappy with the outcome. He was certain that he should have won. He kept bringing in zucchinis. They would be accompanied by long, rambling notes that didn’t make much sense. He signed them ‘Zucchini Man.’ Geoff warned me that the guy who dropped them off was wearing a tinfoil hat.”

Stuart did not need to explain the tinfoil hat. They are worn by a small segment of our downtown population, and can be seen in many other cities. To the people who wear them, the hats are not a fashion accessory, but a device whereby they attempt to deflect the radio waves that are interfering with their thoughts.

“And people in the newsroom started avoiding you because of that?”

“No, it was when he managed to get past Geoff one day and into the newsroom itself. He knew me from the picture on my column; headed straight for me. This guy has a huge zucchini with him, probably one of the twenty-pounders. He was carrying the zucchini on his shoulder like a baseball bat. Geoff had already called up to warn me, and he had called the police, but it took them a little while to get here.

“Zucchini Man calmly asked me where his million dollars was, his prize for the biggest zucchini. I kept my cool, told him that we were getting the editor’s signature on it at that very moment, and if he would just have a seat and wait, it would soon be here. Everything was going fine until Wildman Winters decided to play John Wayne.”

Wildman Billy Winters, a former staffer, was a walking Bad Hemingway Contest. He had none of Papa’s talent for writing, but that didn’t stop him trying to emulate the lifestyle. His successes were generally limited to accolades like “person who made the ugliest scene at the party.” I winced thinking of what he would have added to the situation Stuart was describing. “Not the best defender you could have asked for.”

“Right,” Stuart said. “He tried to grab Zucchini Man from behind, but he didn’t make it. Zucchini Man ducked, then came up swinging. Walloped Winters but good with this great green gourd. Knocked him out cold; Winters ended up in the hospital for a few days. The Zucchini Man was going berserk then, whomping one surface after another with this zucchini. He didn’t try for anyone else, just objects, but it scared everybody and made a huge mess. Pulp all over the place.

“The cops got there about then. The LPPD was smart, sent a couple of guys who knew Zucchini Man. They greeted him like he was an old friend. When he saw them, he calmly set the remainder of the zucchini down and walked out with them. He paused near the door and asked me to send his check to him in the mail.”

“Not to speak ill of the dead, but I’m not so sure that Winters wasn’t a bigger menace to society.”

“I agree. You ask me, a guy like Winters was scarier than a guy who’s proud of his vegetables. But what I was trying to explain to you was that for a few weeks after this event, some of the people in the newsroom avoided me. They sort of blamed me for the guy being here, and for Winters getting hurt. It was as if they thought I might attract other people like this Zucchini Man – standing next to me was like standing next to a bull’s-eye.”

“I see what you mean. If Thanatos is coming by my house, he might visit the newsroom.”

“Right. You’ve already brought him too close. He calls you here. He sends things to you. Apparently watches you now and then.”

“And he’s more dangerous than someone with a large squash.”

“Don’t get too discouraged.”

“Thanks, Stuart.”

He started to walk away.

“Stuart?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to Zucchini Man?”

He smiled. “He was lucky. Too many people said Winters went after him first, and Winters didn’t have too great a reputation with the cops, so Zucchini Man wasn’t charged with anything. We ran his picture in the paper; turned out his family had been looking for him. They got him on some meds that worked for him, and they make sure he stays on them. He’s still around – he helps out with a community garden program over on the west side of town.”

I DIDN’T GET a call from Hobson Devoe or from Thanatos. When I got home that evening, I took a nice, hot bubble bath. It was relaxing, but my thoughts kept returning to Stuart’s story about Zucchini Man and Billy Winters. Stuart didn’t need to tell me what had happened to Billy Winters. Everyone on the staff knew about the night when Winters got himself good and lit, drove off in a drunken rage, and died in a head-on collision. The Wildman himself might have thought of it as going out in style, if he hadn’t also killed a family of five in the other car.

I’d rather ride home with someone wearing a tinfoil hat.

AS I GOT READY for Frank’s office party, I thought that it might be good to take his mind off his troubles at work, and chose an outfit that would have made a mnemonics expert forget what he was about to say. It was a sleek little blue number that accented the color of my eyes – if anyone bothered to look that high. I was feeling devilish, and set a personal challenge for myself: to get Frank to leave the party an hour after we arrived.

He came home and gave me one of those looks that make you want to shout Vive la différence, and I had to convince him that we should go to the party in the first place. He got back at me to some extent by looking pretty spiffy himself, and I started to wonder if maybe we should stay home after all. But by now we were both enjoying the sparks that were flying, and we put on our coats and left.

The party, I soon learned, was at Bredloe’s house, which added an obstacle. Bredloe is captain of the Robbery-Homicide Division. Boss to the second power – Frank’s boss’s boss. I glanced at my watch: 7:30, and the damn party was at the captain’s house. This was going to be tough, I thought with a grin. But not too tough.

I had a drink in my hand and all the male attention I could want by 7:32. Frank stuck to me like a Siamese twin, and I started to wonder if I was going to be able to be as effective at such close range. Pete arrived, and I was happy to see that Rachel was back in town and with him that evening. She’s a real stunner, a tall Italian beauty. She ran over and gave me a big hug, and pulled me aside. Pete started yammering away at Frank, who watched us walk away with an anxious look. I loved it.

“What a terrific dress!” Rachel said, then added more softly, “Frank’s looking at us like we might disappear. I get the idea he’d like to go home and take that dress off you. Why are you looking at your watch? Am I boring you already?”

Noting that it was already 8:14, I told her my plan. We started laughing, and I saw both Pete and Frank look up in dismay. I noticed a couple of women had moved over toward them, trying to start conversations. Our boys were acting distracted but tried to be courteous.

“Well,” Rachel said, “I won’t have time to talk to you tonight, then. But Lydia tells me you’ll join us tomorrow?”

“Yes, looking forward to it. We decided to put off going up to the mountains, and we’ll see his family on the day after Christmas.”

“Bene. We’ll see you tomorrow. Now, quit wasting time.”

“Don’t worry, this hasn’t been a waste of time. This works better than standing next to him.” A glance at my watch told me it was time to go in for the kill: 8:24. Rachel crooked a finger at Pete, and he made his way over as I made my way back. Frank put a possessive arm around me, but continued to give polite attention to a redhead who was still doing her best to converse with him. I leaned over and spoke softly into his ear. “Frank,” I said in my huskiest whisper, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”