“But…” she began, not knowing how to finish.
“I’m Sam. I’m the police chief.”
She glanced wildly at the still unfinished painting on the wall, then back at him. She saw that his facial expression was one of amusement. “I… I know who you are. Am I… are you?”
He shook his head. “You’re not in trouble, and I’m not going to arrest you.”
She tried to relax, but the jolt of adrenaline still had her on the cusp of a fight or flight reflex. “You scared me.”
He nodded. “I know. You probably thought that your infrared beams would let you know that someone was coming.” He held up a small monocle. “I expected something like that, so I’ve been carrying this with me. I saw the beams and stepped around them. Nothing to it.”
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She glanced at the wall. “Want me to clean it up?”
He shook his head. “Heavens, no! I happen to think your work is something that we’ve needed for a long time. We just didn’t know it yet. As a matter of fact, I was one of your earliest supporters.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He smiled reassuringly. “Can you tell me your name now? Are you over your fright?”
She took a deep breath. “Roberta Lith.”
Watts’s eyes narrowed. “Lith. I remember you. Weren’t you the one who camped—”
“I’m the one,” she said, nodding. “I’ve always admired Luna. Somehow, I’ve always known that this is where I belonged. Once I got here, I discovered that Lunarians don’t laugh often enough. It’s not that they don’t have a sense of humor, they just don’t have time to indulge it. Since I was relatively late getting here, I thought that I might be able to step outside the rush more easily and show them themselves. God knows, I’m not objective—I love this place too much—I just wanted to make people smile once in a while. The commentary angle just sort of happened.”
“Where’d you learn to paint like that?”
She laughed, still nervous. “Oh, that. That’s nothing. I was doing a lot of drafting in school, schematics and things like that, but my lines were always sloppy. I thought that it might help if I took some art classes to develop my hand. I discovered that I enjoyed it. I’ve doodled a bit here and there, but this is the first time I’ve ever actually put it to use.”
Watts shook his head. “Well, I, for one, appreciate what you’re doing. I know it’s a helluva note for a policeman to be endorsing anarchy, but what you’re doing has a place in our society. We need a court jester to keep us honest.”
Roberta looked back at the wall. “This isn’t funny, though. Alan’s gone and no one’s laughing.”
Watts shrugged. “You can’t help that.”
She glanced past him down the corridor. “This is the last one I’m going to do. I don’t feel safe any more. Being out alone like this, late at night.” She shook her head. “I wanted to do one more, though. I had to say good-bye to Alan in my own way.”
“What if I offered to stand guard? I don’t want you to quit doing this if you feel that you have more to say.”
“But—”
He pursed his lips, thinking. “Tell you what. Just call me at work when you want to do something. If you don’t get me, just leave a message that I’m to call the Court Jester. People will look at me funny, but that’s my problem, not yours.”
“Are you sure that’s all right?”
He nodded. “I’m going to stand back over here against the wall. You go right ahead and finish.”
As the painting took shape, Watts noted that she added a small body circling Luna. The face she gave it was unmistakably his own, scowling fiercely outwards as though to say that Alan’s death would never be repeated.
Hank and Carol Willis sat on one side of the booth. Sheila Haskel, arriving later in the evening, sat across from them. “I heard from Reg this afternoon,” Sheila said.
Hank’s eyebrows rose. “So how is he?”
Sheila shook her head in wonder. “He’s got a job. After all that bitching he did the last time that he called, he just up and took the next thing that came along.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Something small, it sounds like. He’s working for Lunar Magnetics there in Crisium. He said he’s working in their machine shop. Something about building prototypes.”
Hank nodded approvingly. “OK. I can see how he might fit into something like that.”
“He’s… changed. You know how he used to be so much fun? Then he lost his job and turned into a major grump. You’re not going to believe this, but he almost sounds like he used to—the old Reg. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s happy again, but he certainly isn’t anywhere near as gloomy as he was six months ago. He was even telling jokes.”
Carol looked surprised. “It’s been a long time since he did that. I wonder what got into him?”
“Maybe he got religion,” Hank suggested.
“He said that Commissioner Lister came and saw him just before he was shot. Reg acted funny about it. Almost as though he was ashamed to talk about it.”
“Wonder what Lister said,” Carol said.
“I don’t know, but whatever it was, it seems to have made a big impression on Reg.”
“And he hated Luna so badly.” Carol mused.
Hank huffed. “He didn’t hate Luna. He was just jealous. They had jobs and he didn’t. If he’s got a job now, then he doesn’t have to feel that way any more. His pride is coming back.”
“He’s asked me to come up,” Sheila said quietly, almost as an afterthought.
“To Luna?” Carol cried incredulously. She and her husband exchanged looks. They had suspected a last minute liaison between Reg and Sheila, but nothing had led them to anticipate this.
Hank was teasingly skeptical. “Are you sure this call wasn’t a wrong number? This doesn’t sound like the Reg I remember. This guy’s an imposter, although I’ll be damned if I can see any reason someone would want to palm himself off as Reg. After all that complaining he—”
Carol clapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. “Let’s get to the important part. What did you say?”
Sheila looked sheepish. “I told him I’d think about it.”
“Don’t pull that crap on me, Sheila! Are you going up there or not?”
She nodded. “If they’ll let me.”
“First Frank, then Reg, and now you,” Carol said. She punched Hank in the ribs with her elbow. “So when are we going, you big ox? Everybody else has up and gone. Are we going to let them leave us behind?”
He affected a surprised look. “You mean I can speak now? Golly!”
“You not only are permitted to, but it’s expected of you. Answer the question.”
“Do you mind if I think about it a bit first?”
“Of course not. As long as you don’t take over sixty seconds and the answer is yes.”
He rolled his eyes heavenwards. “Reg, just wait until I get my hands on you!”
Ron Abner examined his best friend with a critical eye. “Something’s up.”
Mike Ordner looked at him quizzically. “Was that a question or a statement?”
“Both. You’re grinning like an idiot and I want to know why.”
Ellen, Ron’s wife, said, “There’s a woman involved. See the smug, self-satisfied look, Ron? I’ll bet he got—”
“Honey!” Ron said hastily, “Mike might not want to—”
“How about it, Mike? What happened?” she demanded, pointedly ignoring her husband.
Chuckling and shaking his head, Ordner said, “Well…”
Ellen nodded approval. “Good. Now you can forget all about Susan. She wasn’t good enough for you, anyway.”
“Ellen!” Ron cried in horror, knowing that his friend was still sensitive about his ex-girlfriend. But… damned if Ordner wasn’t grinning. Almost against his will, Ron began to take his wife’s theory seriously.