by Doug Walker
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
There was no need to wait, so Frenesi managed to bump into Kellerman by chance and drop the books she was carrying. The two laughed as they stooped to retrieve them, and Kellerman took in her ample bosom.
“I’m so clumsy,” she said in Spanish.
“What a delightful accent you have,” Kellerman responded. “We should get together sometime.”
“Guy and Doña María were talking about having you over just last night. I’m not certain, but I think he might want to return to the faculty. He’s out of work, you know. And with the baby and all.”
Kellerman beamed. A chance to play the hero and please the new president. If he could hook Guy King back on the staff with a straight faculty contract, there would be no more grumbling from those bleeding-heart faculty malcontents. But how to reply? “I don’t know if President Shaft would approve,” Kellerman finally said. “But I’d go to the mat for Guy. I know we’ve had our misunderstandings. But I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. Why not? If an opportunity like that comes along, I’ll be glad to drop over.”
“You’re so gracious, Ed. Do you mind if I call you Ed?”
“Certainly, Frenesi.” He gave her his best sincere smile.
“I’ll see what I can do and I’ll give you a call.”
“Anytime. And, incidentally, we, you and I, can get together and I’ll assist you with your English, although your Spanish is beautiful.”
She was tempted to say, yours is about third grade level, but she left with a simple, “Adios.”
Guy had been working and reworking his Latin to get them to a spot in Madrid near the entertainment section and at a time frame just after the return of the battered Armada. Battered vessels, troops straggling in from Lisbon and every part of the coast, men returning via Scotland, which had remained neutral, and France, ransomed men with horror stories of the less fortunate who had been summarily dispatched by the axe or the hangman’s knot. It was at this time that Guy wanted to return with his sergeant and one cadet.
Kellerman was invited. He would arrive at eight and they would have dinner much later, in the Spanish style. The Brits were excused, and the sitter had taken Roberto to Mary McKay’s apartment for the night.
“If this works out,” Guy told Mary. “I don’t want Kellerman’s car sitting outside our condo. So after we leave please drive it to that gay bar near the campus and leave it in the parking lot. Put the keys under the seat and don’t leave fingerprints.”
“What keys?”
“I’ll get the keys.”
“OK. Now what about dinner? Can I help with the cooking?”
A short pause while Guy smiled to himself. Yes, dinner, he thought. “When we are gone, you, Doria and Frenesi might think of going out for a bite. Wendy’s is open late.”
“I see.”
Kellerman arrived on time and commented on their outfits. Guy, Doña María and Jesus were dressed as Spanish soldiers, each with a dagger in his or her boot. “Just a bit of atmosphere,” Guy said pleasantly. Kellerman smiled and shook hands warmly all around. Corks came out of red wine bottles. Longhorn cheese, chips and salsa were on the table. Candles were lit. The talk was general, mostly campus gossip.
When the second glass of wine was almost gone, Guy carefully refilled all the glasses and proposed a bottom’s up toast to the new president. Kellerman was happy to comply and raised his glass to Dr. Shaft.
“Now I’d like to try and experiment.” Guy said. “You’ve all heard of séances and items being levitated mysteriously in the air. Well, I found an old book with a sure fire method. It takes four people. We sit around the table, chant for a minute or two in a rhythmic manner, then I mutter some incantations and the table should rise. Are we all game?”
Fueled by the wine, everyone agreed. Guy said he and Jesus and Doña María and Kellerman would do it. Men would be better. Testosterone might do the trick.
“Ed, metal items such as keys might interfere. So let’s give ours to Mary to hold.”
“What about Jesus?” Kellerman said.
“Oh, sure. He only has a house key. No car yet, hey Jesus.” Jesus smiled and they all handed over their keys.
“Now the last thing. We want no interference from bad vibes. So everyone else must leave the room and close the door. Just the four of us.” At that point Poncho sprang from the couch and hurled himself at Guy’s knee. He was too small to make the climb to the lap, but he jumped and barked. Well, maybe I meant just the five of us.” He picked up the small dog and Poncho placed his paw on Guy’s bare wrist. He wanted contact.