The Willow Glen Resident

Point of View

Deborah Taylor-Hollis

Boo wades into Whitewater

Boo called to have me get him a lawyer in Washington, D.C., next month. He's still in Saudi Arabia, filling his latest order for heavy water for the Pakistani nuclear-testing folks. He needs representation fast. Boo just got his official "invitation" to visit Mr. Starr concerning activities "unseemly and damaging to the Republic." Boo isn't concerned about his reputation as an international weapons trader or his shady holdings in several Caribbean nations. Boo's under investigation because of his Tripp/Lewinsky connection.

I immediately made arrangements for the firm of Obsequious, Obstreperous and Obnoxious to handle him, then phoned him with the news.

"Boo? I have the new mouthpiece you need. They want to know just how far you are in."

"How far? Are they crazy? I've been to the mouth of the river, and the headwaters are polluted," he intoned in his best cloak-and-dagger patter.

"Speak English. Have you really met them? Or is this just another offer from Harcourt Brace?"

"You think I'd sell out for a lousy book deal? No way. I have people to protect here. I know who's been around that particular muddy bend Kenny S. is trying to navigate. I know Craw Daddy."

"Craw Daddy? What, you know some rapper?"

"Not Puff. Craw. You really need to keep up. I sent you his photograph last month."

"All you sent me was a box of torn veils marked 'radioactive' and a Polaroid of some guy's hand in a rubber glove. I thought it was yours on a slow night."

"No--that was Craw all right, in full working uniform. He's the best in D.C. He's known as Mr. D&C to those who know."

"Oh, so you know some back-alley OB-GYN?"

"No alleys, honey--the boudoirs of the oh-so-rich and don't-want-to-be-famous. He's--is this line secure?--He's the president's abortionist."

I was almost speechless, until I realized that Saudi Arabia is a very hot country and Boo lost his hat on an SFO runway last year. "Right," I humored him. "the president has his own OB-GYN. You might mean Hilly."

"Oh, this is not about her. Craw works under a special unit of the Fish and Game Department. On the books, he's listed as an agent patrolling the Four Corners area--easy to lose, and no one really cares how many saguaro cactus get saved. In reality, he's the main man's private cleanup crew, taking care of any ... evidence. He knows both the girls, and I know him. And somehow, Starr knows about me now. Did you tell the lawyers to keep a lid on things for another three to five weeks?"

"Of course. I relayed your instructions exactly, ludicrous as they may be. What will another five weeks buy you?"

"Not me; it's what someone else will buy. If the cards play out right, I'll be able to conclude this three-way deal with Pakistan, Libya and Trent Lott. When I'm done, Starr will be much too busy to worry about me."

"Just what have you got up your sleeve this time?" I queried.

"Let's just say that if you want a bomb, you need parts. Libya has those, but with the embargo, no cigarettes. That's for Lott. Nobody cares if the Indians and Paks blow each other to kingdom come, just as long as it doesn't drift over international fishing waters. And most of the parts won't come in working order anyway, so they can just throw rocks at each other again. If I'm off the hook, Craw won't ever come to light--and neither will some very provocative medical records I'm sitting on for him."

"Oh no, Boo, don't tell me you have proof Tripp's had an affair with the leader of the free world!"

"Better than that. Remember Christine Jorgenson?" he asked, laughing maniacally as my three minutes were up and the lines went dead.

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