“You understand the definition of honey?” Hammer started in on this again. “A food for larvae. To be flattering or obsequious. Cajolery. What you say to get your socks darned and buttons sewn on. Christ, why did I come to this city?” She shook her head, not kidding.

“Atlanta wasn’t much better,” he reminded her. “Certainly not Chicago, or it wouldn’t have been for long.”

“True, true.”

“What about your press conference?” He moved on to more important matters. “I passed along a very appropriate suggestion. And what?” He shrugged thin shoulders. “Where’s my press conference? Was it so much for me to ask? This building is a beacon bringing business to Charlotte-Mecklenburg. We need to disseminate positive information, such as our hundred and five percent clearance rate for all violent crimes last year . . .”

She interrupted him, because she couldn’t let this pass. “Sol, this is not financial smoke and mirrors. You cannot manipulate the bottom line on paper and in computers and get everyone to accept it. We’re talking tangibles. Rapes, robberies, B&E’s, homicides, with real flesh and blood victims. You’re asking me to convince citizens that we cleared more cases than we had last year?”

“Old cases were solved, that’s why the numbers . . .” he started to repeat what he had been told.

Hammer was shaking her head, and Cahoon’s infamous impatience was heating up. This lady was the only one who dared talk to him in this fashion, if he didn’t include his wife and children.

“What old cases?” Hammer said. “And going back how far? You know what this is like? It’s like someone asking me how much I make as chief of police and I say a million dollars because I’m going back ten years.”

“Apples and oranges.”

“No, no, Sol.” She was shaking her head more vigorously. “No apples and oranges here. Oh no. This is fertilizer.”

“Judy.” He pointed a bent finger at her. “What about the conventions that decide not to come here because of this . . . ?”

“Oh for God’s sake.” She waved him off and stood. “Conventions don’t decide anything, people do, and I can’t hear any more of this. Just let me handle things, you mind? That’s what I’m paid to do. And I’m not going to spread a lot of crap. You’ll have to get someone else to do it.” She started walking out of his office with its view. “A hundred and five percent.” She raised her hands in exasperation. “And I’d watch out for your secretary, by the way.”

“What does she have to do with this?” Cahoon was most confused, which was fairly normal after a visit with Hammer.

“I know the type,” Hammer warned. “How much does she want?”

“For what?” He was baffled.

“Trust me. She’ll let you know,” said Hammer, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t be alone with her or trust her. I’d get rid of her.”

Mrs. Mullis-Mundi knew the meeting could not have gone well. Cahoon had not sent for water, coffee, tea, or cocktails. He had not summoned her on the intercom and asked her to show the chief out. Mrs. Mullis-Mundi was conjuring up herself in her Chanel compact, checking her smile in the mirror, when Hammer suddenly was there. This was not a woman who bleached her teeth or waxed her legs. The chief tossed some sort of report in a file folder on the executive secretary’s enameled Chinese desk.