Hailey Lind [Annie Kinca

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

blaring in the background. Listen, Evangeline, did you
call the alarm company? Tell them it s a false alarm?
SHOOTING GALLERY 299
Oh. You want I should do that? Won t that guy do it?
The alarm choked off. See there, it stopped.
Great, I said, rubbing my temples. Where have you
been? What s going on with Pascal?
That s what I was callin about. Can I come over?
This was what happened when I answered the phone, I
thought. You d think I d learn.
Twenty minutes later, hotel security called, reluctant to
allow Evangeline upstairs. When I opened the door I un-
derstood why. Evangeline wore a stiff black leather outfit,
studded with dangerous-looking silver spikes and deco-
rated with zippers and chains with no discernible purpose
other than intimidation.
Great outfit, Mary piped up as I stood in the doorway,
dumbfounded.
T anks loads, Evangeline said, clanking and creaking
her way into the room. See, I knew this would be a fancy-
schmancy place. Hey, looka here, a minibar.
I looked to Mary for help, but she just grinned. Evan-
geline? What s going on? Where s Pascal?
I think maybe he s dead. It s kinda hard to say. There
was some wise guys lookin for him. Evangeline cracked
open a bottle of Perrier. But this afternoon, I get this call,
all crying and emotional, from this chick who lives with
him at the house. She took a swig of the mineral water and
wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Pascal has a house?
That s what I said! I figgered he had an apartment
somewhere, not a fancy-pants house. But it s on Telegraph
Hill, and that s a pretty nice area, right? Evangeline guz-
zled more water, and started to open and close drawers,
finding only a Gideon s Bible.
I nodded. A house on Telegraph Hill was a nice asset in-
deed.
300 Hailey Lind
Anyway, she was pretty hard to understand cause she
don t speak English good. Only Mexican. And then I
thoughta you, cause I figgered you could understand her.
She belched loudly.
Good one, Mary said, and Evangeline grinned.
Why would you think I speak Spanish? I asked.
Dunno. You seem the type.
Um, Evangeline, it s a holiday and my friend and I
Oh! Youse two, you re like, together, huh? Evangeline
poked her head into the bathroom, and I wondered what
she was looking for. I never woulda believed the way peo-
ples live out here, if I hadn ta seen it fer myself. Like get-
ting married n havin kids and stuff. I mean, don t get me
wrong, it s not like it bugs me, or nothin . Live n let live,
huh? But girls with girls, and guys with guys, no way
you da seen that sort of thing back home.
I looked at Evangeline s muscled bulk, packed into the
studded black leather pants and jacket, and wondered how
many people assumed she was a lesbian from the get-go.
Mary and I are friends, I said. We happen to have the
hotel room for the night and thought we d just relax and
Cool. Whatcha watchin ? She moved toward the bed,
and Mary scooted over to make room. Evangeline s face
clouded. Oh yeah, I forgot about Pascal s chick. She
seemed pretty upset.
I was getting a bad feeling. Upset how, Evangeline?
Why do you think Pascal s dead?
She shrugged, her attention focused on the commercials
playing silently on the television. These guys came
lookin for him. They wasn t happy. Somethin about him
owin them money, or somethin . They said he shouldn ta
been sellin the statues to the garden store. Anyways, after
that he burned a buncha stuff and took off.
What did the woman say when she called?
SHOOTING GALLERY 301
Well, like I says, she was talkin partly in Mexican.
She kept saying somethin about a dedo. What s a dedo?
You mean dildo, Mary suggested, and I fervently
hoped she was wrong.
Did you call the police? I asked Evangeline.
Nah. She was pretty clear on not doin that. I think
she s illegal.
I was rapidly losing Evangeline s attention, so I grabbed
the remote and turned the television off.
Hey! said Mary.
Hey! seconded Evangeline.
Sorry, Mare. Stay with me here, just for a minute,
Evangeline. You think Pascal s dead or at least in trouble,
and that a woman called from his house on Telegraph Hill
to talk about a dedo. Is that about right?
Yeah, pretty much. She was cryin and shit.
And then you came to find me. Why?
Her mild blue eyes were soft and vulnerable. I figgered
you d know what to do.
I sighed and picked up the phone. In much of California
the hospitality business could not function without immi-
grant labor, so it was a safe bet the housekeeping depart-
ment included at least a few native Spanish speakers.
I have a rather odd question, I began.
Not at all, ma am, a sweet-voiced woman replied.
What can I help you with?
I could only imagine what thoughts were skimming
through her brain. Hotel staff saw a whole lot of the
seamier side of human nature, or at least its residue.
Can anyone there tell me what dedo means in Span-
ish?
Dedo? Dedo means finger. Or toe, if it s dedo de pie.
Gracias.
De nada.
302 Hailey Lind
Finger? Toe? I turned to Evangeline. Let s go find Pas-
cal s mystery woman.
I want to come, Mary said.
You do know where his house is, Evangeline?
Yeah, she gave me th address. Whaddya think s up
with her?
Hard to say, I said. Probably she s just upset because
Pascal s disappeared. Damn, I wish one of us spoke Span-
ish.
I glared at my companions. It was ridiculous that every
schoolchild in California did not start learning Spanish in
kindergarten. I could handle French pretty well, but French
was usually useless except when dealing with my grandfa-
ther and the nice folks at Interpol.
Mary and I shed the Fairmont s comfortable bathrobes
and Mary dressed in her black jeans and torn black
pullover. I had left my overalls at the studio, so I put on the
hooker clothes I d worn to the Haggertys .
Youse two look real good together, Evangeline said.
Thanks, but we re not together, together, I began.
Mary slung an arm around my shoulders. Come on,
sweet cheeks.
In the elevator I realized we had a transportation prob-
lem. What are you driving, Evangeline? I asked, hoping
against hope for a sedan.
Beemer.
Really? Being an assistant sculptor must pay a whole
lot better than being a faux finisher. Is it in the garage?
Nope. It don t take much space, so they said to leave it
out front.
Can we take it to Pascal s?
Evangeline looked doubtful. Dunno about all of us.
Why? Is it a convertible? I persisted.
Kinda. You get lots of fresh air.
SHOOTING GALLERY 303
Are the windows missing or something?
Nope. Don t have no windows.
Oh! I know! Mary said, pleased with the game. It s
not a car, is it?
It s a motorcycle. Evangeline and Mary did some sort
of complicated high five and down low.
Ten minutes later we were on our way to Pascal s house
in my truck, Mary perched on Evangeline s lap. The
human booster seat made Mary too tall for the cab, so she
hung her head out the window, doglike.
After several twisty laps around the hilly neighborhood [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Odnośniki