Chapter 7. The mayor sat quietly and gazed out the window as he waited for Chief O'Malley to calm down.

Often the sight of his honor, staring gravely into the middle distance, was enough to reign O'Malley in.

The mayor noted with some chagrin that this policy seemed to be growing less and less effective with every passing day.

The mayor tried to conduct himself in political matters with the dignity and reserve he had learned in his previous profession as an undertaker.

He provided an island of calm reserve in a turbulent sea of emotion, just as he always had.

It was a policy that had served him well in

both occupations. Few of his officials' emotional outbursts were more extreme than the grief of

the recently bereaved. But for Chief O'Malley, it was quite a different matter where the Red Panda

was concerned. A glance at the Red Pander was concerned.

A glance at the clock confirmed that the chief had passed the seven-minute mark for this morning's

tirade and showed no sign of slowing down.

At last the mayor broke his stoic silence.

For heaven's sake, O'Malley, is all this really necessary?

O'Malley wheeled around from the trench he had been wearing in the carpet in the mayor's office. He seemed slightly startled as if he had

quite forgotten someone else was there. Necessary? Just look at this headline. O'Malley dropped a copy

of the Chronicle on his honor's desk, terrific twosome thwart train terror

blazed the headline above a

slightly out-of-focused photograph of a man's back,

which witnesses claimed belonged to the Red Panda,

and beside a portrait of two women smiling broadly for the press.

Train terror indeed!

They caught a purse snatcher on the station platform,

...