Cady Gertz is one of those characters who just show up in the background all the time.  In a way, those are my favorites, because I have their back stories that only I know completely.  If you read all the books though, you might find yourself starting to know them too.

The temporary City Hall was right next door, and with the exception of the lack of hen mesh over the windows, it looked exactly like the police station.  Saba stepped up two very short steps and into the front office, which was only half the size of his own.  Miss Cadence Gertz sat at the receptionist desk.  Her black hair was pulled back into a severe bun, she had on horn-rimmed glasses, and she wore a plain brown gingham dress.  Saba still thought she was very pretty.

“Good morning, Constable,” she said, smiling shyly.

“Good morning, Miss Gertz.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to see the mayor, if he’s not too busy.”

“Police business?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“I’ll see if he can see you now.”  She got up and walked to the door separating the twenty by twenty five foot reception office from the mayor’s office, knocked on the door, and then went in, leaving Saba for a moment, to stand and contemplate brown gingham in a way that he never had before.  She was gone no more than two minutes.  When she came back out again, she ushered him into the presence of the mayor, closing the door behind him.

“Good morning, Mr. Mayor.”

Zeah Korlann rolled his eyes, and then stood up to shake hands with the young constable.

“If I had known being the mayor meant I was doing essentially all of the Colonial Council’s work, I wouldn’t have accepted the position.”  He waved for Saba to take a chair.

“Somebody has to be the big man in charge,” said Saba, sitting down, crossing his legs, and setting his helmet on his knee.

“How is your mother?  I missed her yesterday, when I was visiting my grandson.”

“She’s fine.  And how is Miss Lusk?”

“The same.  I mean, fine.  Miss Gertz said that you were here on police business?”

“Yes, I need to requisition an item.”

“A revolver or a shotgun?”

“A typewriter.”

“Do you know how to type?”

“I’ll learn.”

“I’ll bet we could get Mr. Collit to find one for us.  Are there any funds in the police budget?”

“No.”

“Alright,” Mayor Korlann sighed.  “We’ll find the money somewhere.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Saba getting up.  “Would you happen to know if Miss Gertz has gone to lunch yet?”

Saba escorted Miss Gertz to lunch at Mrs. Finkler’s Bakery as he had done on six previous occasions.  But just like those other six times, this could not be considered a date, because Miss Gertz insisted upon paying for her own meal.  Mrs. Gertz was of the opinion that her daughter, at nineteen, was too young to be courted, and ought not to be receiving gentlemen who were Kafirites in any case.  Still, the two young people had a lovely lunch and did not mention Miss Gertz’s mother, or religion, or police work.  In fact, later, Saba could not remember what the topic of conversation had been at all.  All he could remember was thick barley soup with onions and large brown eyes.