Free Somebody Else's Music by Jane Haddam Page A

to make a difference. And you know it.”
    â€œI keep hoping she’ll decide to get her act together and change.”
    â€œShe doesn’t want to change. Trust me. My father was an alcoholic for thirty years. Some of them want to change and they do, but none of them changes with an attitude like that.”
    â€œOkay,” Liz said. “Let me think.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to think about. Fire her. Or let me fire her. Do it now. Tell Jimmy when you meet him for lunch and he’ll buy you a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Remind him to save a glass for me.”
    â€œLet me think,” Liz insisted. “I can’t just fire her right this second, don’t you realize that? We’re supposed to be going down to Pennsylvania in two weeks.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo she’s expecting to come with me. It’s her hometown, too. That’s all been set up in advance. She’s probably told people she’s coming, people we’ve both known forever. We wouldn’t want to embarrass her—”
    â€œLike hell.”
    â€œ Listen ,” Liz insisted. “I’ve got it all worked out, all right? You won’t ever have to deal with her again, I promise. Does that work?”
    â€œIt might.”
    â€œDon’t be facetious. When you get her awake again, do that however you want, tell her that she’s obviously sick and needs to go home. Insist on it. Say you’ve talked to me and I said to send her home and make her stay there for the rest of the week until she’s over whatever she’s got, stomach flu, think of something—”
    â€œI will not call a gin binge a stomach flu.”
    â€œThen don’t call it anything. Just get her home and make sure she understands that I said she was to stay there and not come into the office for at least a week. I’ll call her later this evening and talk to her—”
    â€œIf she’s sober.”

    â€œIf she isn’t, I’ll talk to her in the morning. Okay? She’s not a reeling drunk all the time, Debra, and you know it. I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her I need her to go out to Hollman early and do some advance work for me, and then I’ll send her off and give her some make work to do. She’ll know it’s make work, of course, but we can’t be picky at the moment. Anyway, then, when I get down to Hollman myself, I can have a talk with her. Between now and then, I ought to be able to figure out another arrangement that will keep her out of your hair—”
    â€œWhat are you going to do to keep her out of your hair?” Debra said. “Liz, I hate to sound like a broken record, but I don’t think she even likes you, and I don’t think it’s all envy, either, although she’s got enough of that. I think she hates you.”
    â€œShe doesn’t hate me,” Liz said automatically.
    â€œRight. Okay. Whatever. Look, I’ll do what I have to do, and all I want from you is the promise that I never have to put up with her in the office again. Fair enough?”
    â€œYes, fair enough. I’m sorry, Debra. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”
    â€œI wouldn’t mind if I thought there was any point to it. You going to go meet Jimmy for lunch?”
    â€œI was intending to.”
    â€œGood. Go. Give me a little time to get this stuff straightened out. Don’t come back until I’m likely to have got her off the premises and on her way home, at least. You don’t need this today.”
    â€œRight,” Liz said. “Thanks again.”
    Then she flicked the phone off—you couldn’t say “hang up,” could you, when there was nothing to hang the receiver up on —and shoved the phone back into the little leather pocket in her tote bag. Jimmy had bought her the tote bag, at some leather store on Fifth Avenue, on a kind of whim, because he said she didn’t understand