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Chapter 33
Back in the Cavern with all the computers around me and Tommy playing in the garden, I dropped into Smokey's chat room to see if there was anything I should know about.
'Beer Belly' was back.
"What you think about the 'Gut Wrencher' as a name for a beer," he enquired, enthusiastically.
"Maybe it depends on whether drinking for you is an enjoyable community experience or a method of opening your bowels," I ventured cautiously.
There was no immediate reply. Perhaps raising the level of conversation above the waist was the secret to stopping him in his tracks.
The 'bot' that suddenly appeared on the site was signaled frantically by the virus detection software as it immediately engaged battle to eliminate the destructive visitor. The mouse pointer danced and there were several eye numbing flashes on the screen until eventually the antiviral software triumphed and a few minutes later the system returned to normal.
It looked as if Beer Belly had a vicious streak so I looked up his IP number through the visitor tracking software and banned him from the site. Beer Belly was history.
The web cam was still working fine so I panned it around the room to see if anything interesting was going on at Smokey's.
Ron was there at the end of the bar, looking thoughtful. The gamblers were in the corner, looking as if they haven't got over yesterday's hangover and my favorite private investigator was sitting in the other corner quietly sipping a sherry.
Then Gerda came into view and my breathing quickened involuntarily. She was wearing a smart red skirt with matching jacket, a fluffy necktie and a white shirt open at the front just in case she should suddenly develop a cleavage. Her hair had been given a makeover with gray highlights and a better shape. But now there was a sophistication that had been overlaid on my genuine student friend that to me wasn't an improvement.
The creator of the new Gerda was inevitably and proudly sitting next to her, his hand resting proprietarily high up on her thigh. She didn't seem to mind but I detected there was a coolness in her attitude towards him. Something about her expression suggested a new reserve. Perhaps there had been a standoff and Gerda hadn't won.
On the dance floor was a new stripper who must have replaced Gerda. She looked bored as she removed her traffic warden costume. I panned the camera to check out the audience reaction and they looked bored too. Perhaps this was why Ron was thoughtful.
Moments later an email came through from Ron. He must have seen the web cam in motion and realized that I was in the office.
"This is dire," his note said. "The audience is bored. Could you persuade Gerda to change her mind and do some more sessions for me."
I emailed back my comments without telling him off for using the web cam computer at Smokey's for sending emails - after all he was the boss.
"Why not generalize from the specific rule? Why was Gerda so good? Could it be that she was unprofessional and new to the game? Perhaps you don't need Gerda but lots of other people like her who are similarly inexperienced - but intelligent enough to make the floor show interesting."
"Have you any ideas where I could find these girls?"
The chat room was becoming more active with discussion about the merits of the new traffic warden stripper. It was harmless and didn't need any intervention from me. The general view was that she had missed her vocation ... and should try being a real traffic warden. Others seemed to share the view that all traffic wardens should become strippers - because then they wouldn't have time to give traffic tickets.
"The comments in the chat room seemed to agree that something needs be done," I reported to him. "Perhaps Gerda has friends who would be interested but, in any group of students, there won't be many who will be willing and have aptitude to do it, however poor they are, so you probably need to access a wider group.
Why don't you let the rooms here to selected students? It would be an extra income stream for you and they would have access to a large student network of friends for finding performers."
There was a pause as Ron considered this idea. His reply was not impressed.
"Putting aside my suspicion that you are trying to get loads of female talent to pull conveniently onto your doorstep, it's not a bad idea. On the other hand, I've already spent a lot of money on the property setting up the web site offices and your flat. Getting the rooms legal for letting would require fire prevention work and up front expenditure that I don't want to incur at the moment."
I tried another tack.
"Alternatively, you could advertising for amateurs - a sort of talent contest. This would have the advantage of you not having to pay them because it was a competition and you could select the best of the bunch for a regular slot."
Ron's reply was enthusiastic.
"Now that sounds like a brilliant idea, young Barry. Maybe you are beginning to justify all the money I'm paying you ..."
My lips curled back in a snarl. He was treading dangerously now.
"About that money, have you any idea what web site designers get paid compared with what you are giving me?"
But Ron was gone, as always, discussing my salary activated his flight instincts. Also the doorbell had just rung so I logged off to see who it was.
As I reached the top of the stairs, the front door slammed.
When I'd got it open again, Tommy was waving from a rapidly disappearing red Porsche driven by a lovely lady with kingfisher blue eyes who didn't seem to want to talk to me any more.
So I decided to go and see my favorite private eye who might be able to help me discover what was going on.
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