. .
What went with Panzella?
Pasta.
Oh, Christ! Pasta Panzella. It couldn't be. Absolutely no way Pasta had been . . . well . . . fat. That was how she got the name. A real chubette. This gal was anything but fat.
And yet . . .
Something about her face . . . slim down the rounded cheeks he remembered, do something with Pasta's wild tangle of hair, and it could be. It had been ten years or more since he'd last seen her, but yes, it could damn well be Pasta.
Gerry glanced at his watch. He was supposed to be back at the office soon to meet with Ketter on the Schulz case, but they hadn't set a definite time for the meeting. Maybe he'd hang around here for a while and see if he could get another look.
Pasta Panzella . . . it was almost too much to believe.
'"Okay, " said Joe Blair, Senator Marsden's chief of staff. "Enough about the officer. Let's talk about you." Really? Gin thought.
You're finally going to stop talking about yourself and actually interview me? Can you stand it?
Blair was about her age, with thinning brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and a wispy mustache. He wore a short-sleeve white shirt, a nondescript tie, and dark blue slacks. He looked too young to be a U.S. senator's chief of staff, but from the stories he'd been telling her, all starring a certain Joseph Biair, he'd been on the Hill for the entire eight years since his graduation from Cornell with a poli-sci degree. This was the third senator he'd worked for, and to hear Joe tell it, he'd written more legislation than any of the members he'd staffed for.
What a guy. Reminded her of some of the orthopedic residents in Tulane.
Gin had been under the impression that she was going to be interviewed by Senator Marsden himself.
"The senator is on the floor, " Joe Blair had told her.
Gin had looked around. "I don't understand." '"That means he's in the Senate, " Blair said with a condescending smile. "On the floor of the Senate."
"I see." She did her best to hide her disappointment.
"Besides, the senator doesn't do the hiring and firing. I do.
Oh, great. Her disappointment was swept away by a wave of apprehension.
She had the distinct impression that Blair didn't like her.
Blair gave her a quick tour of the office. She'd already seen the small front section with its two receptionists, one male, one female, and its antiseptic, dentist's waiting-room ambience. The rear space was much larger and sloppier, looking like a real working office with modular work spaces, cluttered desks, sagging bookshelves, glaring computer monitors, empty coffee cups, papers and folders Lying on every available horizontal surface. And phones. Phones everywhere, each bearing a little U. S. Senate seal.
The staff occupied two floors that communicated via a central stairway.
The two-tiered space offered more room than most senators had, but Marsden represented one of the larger states, and she knew "appropriation by population" was religious dogma on the Hill.
The second floor was pretty much like the first except for a small lounge and the computer room that housed the central processor for the office's LAN. The striking feature of the second floor was the mail room with its bins, many bins, of letters. Blair told her anywhere from ten to fifteen thousand pieces of mail were sorted, filed, and answered on a weekly basis by the staffs legislative correspondents.
Blair decided to interview her in the senator's office. Gin was surprised at the Spartan decor. She'd expected heavy oak paneling, plush carpeting, indirect lighting, a big leather chair, a huge impressive desk sporting a U. S. Senate seal and flanked by state and national flags, the works. Apparently Marsden wasn't impressed by the trappings of his office. The desk and its straight-back chair were of some nondescript wood, looking plain and slightly battered in the late morning sunlight that poured through the high windows. Files were stacked on the desk and floor. A few plaques and diplomas adorned the walls along with pictures of his family. A single bookcase was overflowing. A miniature basketball hoop was set up over the wastepaper basket.
Gin had a pretty good idea right then that she was going to like Senator Marsden.
But first she had to get past his chief of staff.
She and Blair settled themselves on opposite sides of the coffee table in the sitting area of the office. Blair spent another ten minutes or so talking about his prowess in helping guide the senator's bills through the many pitfalls of the legislative process, his gaze all the while drifting between her legs and her breasts. Gin drew the skirt hem closer to her knees.
She had decent legs and wore a 54-C bra. What else did he want to know? Maybe she should have worn a pantsuit.
Finally he began shuffling through her resume.
"Very impressive, ' he said, "but I don't see anything here about party affiliation."
"I'm an independent, " Gin said.
He glanced up at her as if she'd burped, then cleared his throat.
"Party affiliation is very important. We have to know whom we can trust."
"If I'm on your staff, you can trust me. If you want a straight answer, I'll give it to you. If I don't know an answer, I'll find out." He stared at her. "I don't know . . . the senator was impressed that a practicing physician, especially a young one, would apply for a position as a legislative assistant on the Guidelines bill.
Tell me, What do you think you can bring to the committee that we don't already have? " Finally, here was the question Gin had been waiting for.
"I can bring a lot of things. First off, '' "You know the history of the committee, don't you? ' he said. Gin did, but that wasn't going to stop Blair "Well, back when you were still in training, before a national healthcare program and universal coverage became hot topics, Senator McCready, a ranking member of the Committee on Labor and Human Resources, introduced his Medical Practice Guidelines Bill in the Senate at about the same time Congressman Allard introduced a very similar bill in the House. In a rare show of cooperation a joint committee was formed. Senator McCready chaired the hearings but died before the bill could be sent to the floor of either house. With one of its chief sponsors gone, the bill died in committee." Gin nodded.
"But earlier this year the president stepped in.
Yes He persofally asked Senator Marsden to revive the McCready committee. But he wanted the legislation to include not only practice guidelines, but mandates on medical ethics as well. ' "And that's why you need me, " Gin said, rushing in before Blair could drone on further with his recitation. "I'm a board-eligible internist who came through the medicine and public policy residency at Tulane. I'm a fully trained physician who's well versed in public health issues.
You're going to be collecting reams of testimony, much of it conflicting. You'll need someone like me to sift through it and septate the wheat from the chaff. If Senator Marsden, " "Quite frankly, I don't share the senator's enthusiasm for having a doctor on board, " Blair said, staring at her. "I think it could cause too much confusion, maybe even dissension. So, what can you say or do that will change my mind? " Gin's skin crawled at the way he looked at her when he said that. She decided to ignore it.
"I think you need all points of view to draw up a well balanced plan. I can provide the senator with a valuable perspective, one he's not seeing now, one he has little access to. The best generals always keep abreast of the conditions in the trenches. I can offer, " Blair glanced at his watch. "Look at the time We've already carried this over the limit I'd set for it." He closed her file and stood up.
"Well, thank you, Dr. Panzella" He walked to the door and opened it for her. "I'll discuss your application with the senator. We'll be in touch if he decides to hire you." His expression was perfectly flat, his eyes empty. "Can you find your way out? " "Of course, " Gin said, forcing a smile.