Ed:  Where'd you come from?

Billy:  Where d'you think?  You've got somethin' of mine and I want 
it back.

Ed:  Not now, fool.  I'm going to interview Roy Foltrigg.  Get lost and stay 
there.  I want to get this interview.

Billy:  Now, Baby, remember your manners when you're talkin'  to your 
betters.   Just gimme what's mine and you got nothin' to worry about.

Ed:  Say, isn't that Deputy Poole over there, talking on the cellphone?

Billy (totally unperturbed):  Nice try, Baby.  Who's Roy Foltrigg?

Ed:  Federal Prosecutor for the New Orleans District, that's who.

Billy:  A lawyer?

Ed:  Federal level, even.  I'm beggin' you, man, take a long
walk.  Off a short dock.
 
Billy:  Miss this?  In your dreams, Baby.

Foltrigg's secretary let us into the sanctum sanctorum at precisely
two p.m.  He was silhouetted in a wide window, doubtless for the effect.
He waited until the door latched to turn around and face us.  Foltrigg 
was definitely an eyeful, in a silk suit, fine linen shirt, muted power
tie and Italian loafers.  But I had the distinct feeling he knew it.  
Beside me,  inscrutable behind the aviators, Billy snorted softly.  Mr
Jeans andT-shirt wasn't taken in.  I had a moment to study the office 
decor, blond wood panelling, bookshelves loaded with lawbooks, 
a truly thyroidal Bible on a stand, leather and mahogany furniture. 
Every square inch of wallspace not covered by the bookshelves was 
devoted to...Roy Foltrigg.  There were framed newspaper articles, 
diplomas and certificates, photographs, it seemed like hundreds 
of photographs.  Particularly there was a virtual rogues gallery of
every President since Tricky Dick beside a beaming Roy.  It felt 
like a shrine, or a church.  The Church of Roy Egotistical.


Roy:  Welcome t'Nawlins, cher.  Hope it's not too hot for you.  Glad 
you could make it.

Ed:  I appreciate your agreeing to see me, sir.

Roy:  And your companion is?

Ed (mumbles):  A pain in the backside.

Billy (relaxed and expansive, fearless in the face of a Fed):  Bill
Strannix.

Ed:  Knock it off, you.  This is my interview.

Billy:  Settle.  I'm warnin' you.

Roy:  Do I know you, Bill?  Your face looks like familiar, as though
I've seen it in a movie or a photograph.

Ed (brightly):  When was the last time you went to the post office.

There was an audible thump as Billy's booted foot hit the side of
my leg.

Billy:  No, I don't think we've ever met.

The foot was poised for another shot.  I subsided.  Foltrigg
invited us to sit down, and we did.

Roy:  That's a purty...what would you call it?

Foltrigg was patronizing me, which pleased Billy greatly.  I
scowled at Strannix, which had exactly no effect on him.  I was
wearing a cotton pool-skimmer with a pair of bike shorts, which
was the only way I could survive the heat and humidity of the
Crescent City.  Fortunately, the natives understand that air
conditioning is not a luxury, it's more like life support.

Ed:  I believe the word you're searching for is sundress.

Roy:  Of course, that's it.  It's very purty, cher.

I gave a pained smile.  Strannix grinned wolfishly.  I didn't want
to get off on the wrong foot, so I glanced wildly around the room 
until I could contain my urge to say evil things to Foltrigg and brain
Billy with the desk blotter.  I noticed what looked to be an 'N' as
Foltrigg's middle initial on some of the diplomas and certificates.
I wanted to ask what it stood for, but I couldn't see it well enough
to be sure it was what I thought it was.  Sill, if he had told me that
it stood for Narcissus, i wouldn't have been surprised.  Instead, I
settled on one of the photographs on the wall.

Ed:  Is that Huey Long in that picture there?

Roy:  Yes, it is, cher.  Huey Long did a lot for the people of
Loosiana, and I consider it an honor to follow in his footsteps.

Billy was snickering madly.

Ed:  Ssssh!

Too late, Billy was singing...

Billy:  I am the eggman, I am the Kingfish...coo-coo-ca-choo...

Foltrigg glared impotently at Billy, who smirked right back.  Cool
as a fool.

Billy:  'S the problem, Sunny Jim?  You don't like the Beatles?

Ed:  Will you dry up?  Please?

Billy:  Just who're you talkin' to, girl?

Ed:  This is hopeless...

For a moment, the three of us sat in tense silence, then I decided
to plow ahead.


Ed:  Anyhow, the reason I wanted to see you, Mr. Foltrigg -

Roy:  Call me Roy, cher.  Please. I insist.

Ed:  Roy, then...well, I wanted to know just how you've been
doing since the Mark Sway case.  You made quite a splash
and then...

Bill:  El zilcho.

Roy (He ignored Billy completely, which irked the Naughty One to
no end):  Doing very well, cher, very well all told.  Unfortunately, I
lost my bid for the Senate...

Billy:  What a surprise.

Roy (testily):  I beg your pardon?

Billy:  I said I got some dirt in my eyes.

I punched Billy firmly in the shoulder, as a warning.  He utterly
disregarded it.

Ed:  Have you had the opportunity to see Reggie Love since the
case closed?

Roy:  Sorry to say I haven't, cher.  She was a lovely lady and a worthy
opponent.  I wish her well.  My sources in Memphis tell me that she
has joint custody of her babies now, which must be a great comfort to 
her.

Ed:  That's good to hear.  She was a feisty lady.  I wonder, what did
you think of the way Hollywood treated the case?

Billy:  Here it comes.  Be still my freakin' heart.

Ed:  I'd just be happy if your freakin' mouth would be still.

Roy:  Oh, you must mean the film...Susan Sarandon and...and...

Billy:  Don't tell him, let him guess, girl.

Ed:  Someday...someday...

Roy:  I can't think of the boy's name that played me.  Didn't do me
justice, that's all I know.

Ed:  Tommy Lee Jones played you in the film, Roy.  He's quite a 
respected actor.  He won an Oscar for his portrayal of...

Billy:  Not another word, woman.  Let's just leave it at Tommy
Lee-no-frockin-shirt-Jones and everybody'll walk away just fine.

Ed:  You didn't think I came here to talk about you, did you?

Billy:  You talk about me everyplace else.  Shows your level of
taste.

Ed:  Shows my level of depravity, you thug.  Button your lip.

Foltrigg:  Excuse me?

Ed:  Sorry about that.  He can be hard to handle when he's not
the center of attention.  Now, about the film...

Roy:  Actually, I met with Tommy Lee on several occasions...
coached him on my personal mannerisms, worked with him on
the accent.  I wanted to be sure he presented me in the
proper light.

Ed:  I can hardly imagine Tommy needing to be coached.

Roy:  It was just an attempt to get him in the proper frame of mind
so that he got the look right.  For instance, I helped a bit with the
dialogue.

Billy:  Was the bit about lawyers bein' a pain in the ass yours?

Roy:  No, I believe Tommy Lee wrote that himself, though I must
admit I know where the sentiment came from.

Billy:  You ever been a public defender?

Roy:  No, but the words are almost as old as the profession
itself.  'The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers'.  Can't 
say I agree fully, but I am familiar with the words.

Billy:  So, who said it?  Mickey Spillane?

Ed:  William Shakespeare, you savage.  It's lawyer humor, now will
you shut your trap?  Roy, have you ever had the opportunity to
meet Sam Gerard.  he's a Deputy US Marshal out of the Northern
Illinois District, but...

Billy:  What'd I tell you about Deputy Dawg?

Ed:  What'd I tell you about your mouth?

Roy:  Is this something you two could continue at some other time?

Ed:  About Sam...you've never met him, then?

Roy:  Can't say I've had the pleasure, but his reputation precedes
him.  Exccellent public servant, credit to the badge.  Why do you ask?

Ed:  Cause it shuts this twit down for five seconds.

Billy:  She wants to start shit with me is why she does it.

Roy:  I'm sorry, cher, but I'm really a very busy man...

Ed (regretfully):  I know you are, and I can't tell you how grateful I am
for your time.  We'll get out of your hair now.  Come on, you tool.

Billy:  You livin' dangerously again, girl? 

Ed:  Don't make me laugh.  Why don't you try to scare somebody who
cares, you mutt.  This is the third interview you've trashed.
Why don't you go haunt a house.

Roy (to his secretary):  Get security, will you?

Billy:  I told you, you've messed with the rest, now you can mess with 
the best.  C'mere, woman, class is in session.  It's time you learned
some lessons.

Security, in the form of two burly, uniformed types, doubletimed into
the room.  Billy's attention was immediately drawn to them.

Billy:  Touch the threads, jackoff, you draw back a stump.

Ed:  Okay, okay, I'm going, don't push.


Another day, another fiasco.  Hopefully Billy won't find out when I try
to interview...well, I suppose I'd better not say.

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