Preternatural

As Reneé focused her interrogation on Beatrix, Page had to struggle not to laugh out loud.

“So you don’t take any responsibility for this?” Reneé asked.

“Well, ummm, that French Onion is good,” Beatrix said, licking her lips just so. “If the issue is the damage to the deck, I’ll agree that it was a real mess. But all I was trying to do was eat lunch with some friends. And one of those little bastards stung me. Then it turns out I’m allergic.”

“Okay,” Reneé said, “then what about this?”

With that she produced another photograph. This one captured Beatrix laughing and pouring a round of Johnny Walker Red for a half dozen firefighters, all wearing t-shirts proclaiming “Sparky’s a Bitch Fun Run 10K, Hillyard, WA.”

Beatrix held the photo up as if trying to get the light to cooperate. She smiled, and kept chewing.

“Yeah, now that was a fun day. We raised about eight grand for a family that afternoon.”

“I’m beginning to get the sense that you’re not taking this seriously,” Reneé said.

“Why don’t you tell me what ‘this’ is?” Beatrix replied, using two fingers on one hand to simulate quotation marks.

“This is about whether you are a good ambassador for the organization and whether you are willing to promote a professional image in line with our community standards.”

“You know, Reneé I didn’t see the word ‘ambassador’ in my contract with you all, so if we’re going to be adding to the job description, I’m going to have to ask you for more salary, and probably more dental, and certainly a wardrobe allowance.”

“Your contract says you serve at the discretion of the board,” Reneé shot back. “So, I think you’d be well advised to take this seriously.”

“Okay,” Beatrix replied, “then I’m seriously of a mind to believe that what I do on my own time is none of your business. Aside from the general creepiness of you showing up for breakfast with a folder full of pictures, I’m struck by your attitude that somehow it’s within your purview to conduct espionage on my private affairs. Are you acting out a favorite spy movie here or just exhibiting some preternatural Gestapo instinct?”

And that was the point in the meeting where the unflappable Reneé would corner Ramon, not with German Shepherds, but with a subtle turn of her head, to look him in the eye with the expectation that he would have to indicate, in some way, whose side he was on.

His pulse had quickened but he looked back at her as if he were a bit bored and had other things to do. When she did not look away, he simply raised his eyebrows in a way that suggested he thought Beatrix had asked a good question.