AS IT TURNED OUT, Howard’s dictum of “See me as soon as you get in” really meant, “Just so you know who’s top-dog now, see me after I’ve made you cool your heels for forty minutes. Then watch me take four phone calls before I stoop to acknowledge your presence.” Through it all, Cara kept a pleasant smile on her face and mourned Howard’s premature baldness. Otherwise, she’d have scoured his office for a hair to use as a personal effect on a voodoo doll. According to her calendar of retribution, he was overdue for a freak sinkhole to open beneath his desk and swallow him whole. When Howard finished his last phone call, he took off his glasses, held them up to the light and inspected for stray dust motes that might have had the gall to land on his lenses. Satisfied that he remained pristine, he slipped the titanium-rimmed, itty-bitty-to-the-point-of-ludicrous frames back on his face and finally focused on Cara. “We have found Rory’s departure rather disturbing,” he said.
