to mock him, had stuck. Michael decided he’d like to be called Finch, for Atticus Finch. That character had been the reason he had become a lawyer in the first place. Betty was dubbed The Queen, which seemed to suit her. Michael decided Jules should be Princess since it seemed to infuriate her and flatter her all at once. He adored the way her eyes narrowed into a glare failing in her attempt to fight off a smile.
Piper shot down every nickname they had pitched so they had just begun calling her Captain. It was all a bit too hokey for Piper, and, frankly, hard to keep up with. She decided that placating Michael’s desire to make this endeavor more like an espionage movie was a small price to pay for his help.
“So here are the pictures of Chris at school,” Piper said, handing an envelope over to Bobby. “I also took a tour of the school and his classroom, telling them I had a younger sister who was considering attending. I managed to collect a lot of additional information, but I’m not sure how we can integrate it with the pictures. I know his favorite television show is something called The Idiot Squad, which sounds like good quality programming. His two best friends are Tristan and Corwin, which I didn’t realize were even names. He listens to a band called The Stabbing Mothers and seems to enjoy trading these weird cards with monsters on them. So to sum up my findings, if the fate of humanity rests on the shoulders of this generation then we’re all screwed.”
“I love The Idiot Squad. You sound like an old lady, shaking her fists at the kids walking on her lawn,” Bobby said, pulling the pictures out of the envelope and looking them over.
“You belong in The Idiot Squad,” Piper said, throwing a nearby magazine in his direction, intentionally missing. “I still think it should be incorporated into the evidence we plant if possible. It makes it more authentic and personal. Maybe we can write some notes on the back of some of the pictures,” Piper said, ripping out the page of her notebook and handing it over to Bobby, who flinched as though she was on the verge of slapping him.
“There’s a chance that Rico would recognize Porky’s handwriting. We’d need to be able to match it close enough to be convincing. I can get a sample from some court records and documents while I’m at town hall with Princess,” Michael said making a note on the whiteboard.
“Do we really need to keep using these nicknames? I keep forgetting who is who,” Piper said, scratching her head with the back of her pen.
“Well if we want to be able to walk down the street and have a conversation about it, or we truly want to keep Jules and Betty from knowing the players then yes, Captain, we do need the nicknames. I’m pretty sure if Betty knew that she was serving eggs to the man who killed her husband every morning she’d be plunging a butter knife into his temple tomorrow.” Michael was right, but Piper had a feeling deep down there was an element to these codenames that was more about how cool they were than how necessary.
“All right Finch,” Piper said, throwing her arms up in surrender. “I can forge Porky’s handwriting on the back of the pictures. I made a decent profit writing excuse notes in high school for anyone willing to pay. Get me a sample, and I’ll get this packet all ready to plant in Porky’s house.”
“Have we figured out how and when that’s going to go down yet?” asked Bobby, sitting up in his seat ready to get down to business.
“The judge is a big fan of boxing. There is a boxing thing on Saturday. I’m thinking if I cut the cable Friday afternoon they’ll be anxious to have it fixed in time and call in for an urgent repair.” Piper assumed her forethought regarding the timing would earn her some accolades, but she was finding this was a cynical group of relentless clowns who were always looking for the next punch line. Jules was very similar, and when the four of them were together it was a parade of one-liners and zings.
“A boxing thing?” Bobby exclaimed incredulously with one eyebrow raised. “Saturday is one of the biggest boxing matches of the decade. Oliver Johnson and London Travis are two of the greatest fighters we’ve seen