Sunset Beach(83)

“Can I help you?” Drue asked.

His voice was booming. “Brice Campbell. I am here to see Brice Campbell.”

“He’s not in the office at the moment,” Drue said. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Brice Campbell is my attorney,” the man said.

Drue smiled nervously, hoping the visitor was harmless.

She placed her fingers on the computer’s keyboard. “Are you in our client database?”

“Of course. Brice Campbell is my attorney. My name is Kaa.”

She looked up quizzically. “How is that spelled? And is that your first or last name?”

“Kaa. Only Kaa.”

“Let me just call Mr. Campbell’s assistant to see when he’s expected.”

She swiveled her chair around, leaving her back to the visitor, and buzzed Wendy’s office.

“What is it?”

“Mr. Campbell’s client Mr. Kaa is out here in the reception area, and he’d like to see Mr. Campbell.”

“Kaa?” Wendy sounded puzzled. “That’s not a name I recognize. Get his full name and phone number and ask him what it’s in reference to. Tell him we’ll get back to him later.”

Drue shielded the receiver with one hand and whispered, “He’s, uh, dressed as a pharaoh or something.”

“Not him again,” Wendy said. “Get rid of him.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Drive a spike through his heart or something. He’s a kook.”

“I see that,” Drue whispered. “Also, I think that only works on vampires.”

“I’m on my way,” Wendy snapped.

Kaa had seated himself and was leafing through the latest issue of Modern Maturity when the door from the back hallway opened and Wendy entered.

“Mr. Kaa?”

“Yes?” He ripped a page from the magazine, folded it in half and stood up. “When do I see Mr. Campbell? My issue is still unresolved.”

“Still? I thought you’d seen a doctor about that problem.”

“That doctor was an incompetent quack.” Kaa gestured at the front of his robe, where Drue now noticed an impressive bulge. Her lips twitched as she turned away, trying to stifle a giggle.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Wendy said, her composure intact. “Your accident was three years ago, as I recall, and your case was settled. We referred you to the best urologist in town.”

“And yet this persists.” Kaa thrust his pelvis forward and Wendy instinctively jumped backward.

“I see that,” Wendy said, quickly losing then regaining her composure. “I’m sure that must be, uh, socially awkward. I promise I’ll have Brice look into the matter and get back with you as soon as possible.”

Drue didn’t dare look up. She found a tissue in the box and coughed into it.

“I will be back tomorrow. And the day after that too, unless something is done,” Kaa said, striding out of the office.

When he’d gone, Wendy looked over at Drue. “He was in a construction accident. Fell two stories from an improperly erected scaffolding, and his fall was broken by a cement mixer. He had broken ribs, broken pelvis and a head injury. Before the accident his name was Grady Lee. Afterwards, he started dressing up like that, and he had his name legally changed to Kaa. Brice sued and got him a decent settlement.”

“About that improperly erected thing?” Drue fell into another fit of giggles.

Wendy’s placid face crumpled and she began to snigger, which turned into guffaws. “Oh my God,” she cried, swiping at the tears running down her face. “I can’t even…”

“So … uh, what causes his condition?” Drue asked, handing Wendy a tissue.

“Damned if I know,” Wendy said, sinking down onto an armchair. “He keeps showing up at the urologist’s office, with that … thing. Last week, their office manager threatened to call the police and have him charged with indecent exposure. He’s been back to the neurologist’s office too. Same story. Nobody knows what to do about it.”

“Find him a concubine?” Drue suggested.

Wendy burst out laughing again, but suddenly stopped. “Oh God,” she gasped.

“What?” Drue stood up, alarmed. “Is something wrong?”

“I think I just peed my pants,” Wendy said. “And it’s your fault.”



* * *



The phones began ringing and didn’t stop for the next four hours. It was nearly one when Marianne appeared and announced that she would take over the reception desk for the rest of the day. “Wendy says you should go to lunch,” Marianne said.

Ben was sitting at a table in the break room, typing furiously on his laptop, but he stopped abruptly when Drue joined him at the table, and closed the lid.

“You don’t have to stop working just because of me,” she said, unwrapping her turkey sandwich.

“It’s okay. I’m done.” He tore open a bag of chips resting alongside his own half-eaten sandwich.

“What are you working on?” she asked. “If it’s not top secret.”

“Nothing,” he said, flushing. “Just a kind of side hustle.”