“Preserving the scene.”
“If I’d moved her and messed things up, you’d be pissed, right? ’Cause she was obviously… don’t think I wouldn’ta helped her if I could.”
“You did the right thing, Sal.”
“That was my intention.”
“So,” said Milo, “a month or so ago she told you people at Prep were out to get her. She definitely used the plural?”
“Huh?”
“They were out to get her. More than one person.”
“Hmm. Yeah, I’m pretty sure… yeah, yeah, definitely they not him. That’s another reason I thought she was being dramatic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone’s against her? Like a conspiracy?”
“Was Elise into conspiracies?”
“Like Kennedy stuff, UFOs? Nah. But you know what I mean.”
“You didn’t take her seriously.”
“I would’ve if she’d told me something,” said Fidella. “Also, to be honest, when Elise drank she could get that way.”
“What way?”
“Feeling sorry for herself, maybe a little paranoid.”
“About what?”
Fidella looked at the carpet. Twirled his cigar. Slugged back tequila and put the glass down.
“To be honest, guys, mostly about me. Enough juice in Elise’s system, she’d start convincing herself I didn’t like her no more, was gonna find myself another girl, someone younger. Stuff like that. But normally, she was a great girl, she could be fun. I’m nauseous-sick over what happened to her, you gotta nail whoever did it.”
He rubbed one fist with an open hand. “I know I’m not supposed to say stuff like this but you get this asshole, you just leave me alone with him. I used to box Golden Gloves back in Connecticut.”
“Last I heard,” said Milo, “Golden Gloves didn’t use tag-teams.”
“Huh?”
“They, Sal. More than one person.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, whatever, leave me with all of them.”
Milo crossed his legs and spread his arms along the back of the sofa. “Where’d you meet Elise?”
“A bar.”
“Which one?”
“Not here, Santa Barbara. Place called Ship Ahoy, off South State. I was there on work—Santa Barbara, not the bar. Elise was on vacation. She was all by herself and I was all by myself, we got to talking, we hit it off.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m in between right now. Back then, I was a sales executive.”
“What’d you sell?”
“Used to rep band equipment to schools, for G.O.S.—Gerhardt Orchestral Supply. They’re headquartered in Akron, Ohio, I was their West Coast guy. The state budget for music classes got cut, my contracts started drying up. For a while, Santa Barbara was still good, it’s a rich town. But then even they started holding on to their old instruments longer. I tried to switch to guitars and amps because they’re hotter than trumpets and tubas. But the schools don’t buy them and the mega-stores have that buttoned up. I tried to work for Guitar Center or Sam Ash, figured my experience would be a big deal. They use guys in their twenties, got eight million tattoos, pierces, heavy-metal hair extensions.”
Touching his own bald head. “Before that, I used to sell truck tires, airspace for office buildings, exercise equipment, you name it.”
“So when you met Elise you were on a business trip,” said Milo. “How long ago are we talking about?”
“Two years, give or take.”
“You two ever move in together?”
“No reason to,” said Fidella. “I was traveling a lot and Elise liked her own space. Plus she enjoyed going off on her own—girlie vacations, you know? That’s what she was doing in Santa Barbara. Some spa, they had a special. Elise was good at finding bargains. We didn’t get possessive, you get what I’m saying?”
“Everyone had their own life.”
“When we were both in the mood, we enjoyed each other’s company.”
Milo said, “Like that time in Reno.”
“Huh?”
“There was a picture in Elise’s house, you and her having a great time.”
“Oh, that,” said Fidella. “Jackpot day, yeah that was a fantastic day, how often does that happen?”
“Never to me.”
“Me, I’ve had some nice experiences but not like that. Elise and me were getting eaten alive at the blackjack table, left for the buffet and walked past a dollar slot. Just for the hell of it, I tossed in a token and boom, bells start ringing, lights start blinking. Five thousand bucks. I split it with Elise, told her she was my lucky charm.”
“You both like to gamble?”
“We like our games, no harm in that if you keep it under control, right?”
“Elise keep it under control?”
“Absolutely.”
“Unlike her drinking.”
“Yeah, vodka was a problem for her,” said Fidella. “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“What I’m saying is she wasn’t one of those drunks, sucks it back every day. But give her a long afternoon, she’s not working, she could put away a bottle of Grey Goose. Doing it slowly, you know? You wouldn’t even notice unless you were with her the entire time.”
“How often did she do that?”
“It wasn’t binging,” said Fidella. “She could control whether or not she drank. But if she felt like being a fish, she had the capacity.”
“Same question?”
“Huh?”
“How often did she polish off a bottle?”
“I dunno… maybe two, three times a month. Maybe other times when I wasn’t there, I really can’t tell you.”
“She paced herself.”
“What would happen was, she’d have spare time. Or one of those moody times. I’d say something innocent, she’d march out and lock herself in her bedroom with her Grey Goose, or sometimes it was gin. I learned to just leave ’cause when it happened talking to her was no use.”
“Silent treatment,” I said.
“Silenter than…” Fidella let out an odd laugh—girlish, squeaky—slapped his own mouth.
Milo said, “Something funny, Sal?”
“Something stupid, guys. As in me. I was gonna say Elise could get silenter than the dead.”
We didn’t reply.
Fidella picked up his glass, finished the tequila. “Sure you don’t want nothing?”
“We’re fine.”
“I’m sure as hell not.” He got up, poured more Patrón. “Guess I’m still in that denial stage. Like when my mother passed. I kept expecting to hear her voice, it went on for weeks. Last night, I dreamed about Elise, saw her walking through the door, like the whole ice thing was a stupid joke. What was the point of that? The ice?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out, Sal.”
“Well, I say it’s weird. Elise didn’t even like ice in her vodka. I don’t want you to think she was some drunk, there was plenty of times, like out to dinner, she’d have a nice cocktail—a Stinger, a Manhattan, like anyone else. She could keep control, you know?”
“She’d pick the time and place to finish a bottle.”
“The place was always her house.”
“What about the time?”
“When she worked she needed to be sharp. Who’s gonna hire a teacher stumbles in drunk as a skunk?”
“What subjects did she teach?”
“English. She substituted at that place, anytime a regular English teacher was out, she was on call. Like a doctor.”
“Did she teach anywhere other than Windsor Prep?”