“Slick.”
“You think so until you look at the underlying attitude. No matter how fond you are of what you have, there’s always something hotter coming down the pike. It’s a recipe for discontent.”
“If you buy into it,” I said.
“That’s my job-promoting the concept. Coaxing the gullible into taking the bait.”
“So why don’t you quit and do something else? No one has a gun to your head.”
“I’m fifty-four years old, a little long in the tooth for any big career change. Can I buy you lunch?”
“In matters of food, you can always count me in.”
I pictured McDonald’s, but then I was always picturing McDonald’s. I’d take a Quarter Pounder with Cheese over just about any other foodstuff on earth.
He drove us across town and pulled into a supermarket parking lot where a fellow and his wife had set up a portable barbeque that was attached to a camper shell. The rolling metal rig was black, about the size of a double-wide utility sink, with a pulley and chain that allowed for the raising and lowering of a rack. Chunks of meat had been laid on the grill over hot coals, and the smoky smell of charred beef filled the air. To one side, buttered rolls had been cut in half and placed on the grill.
A steady stream of cars was turning into the lot, taking advantage of the numerous empty parking spaces. On a card table, I could see piles of paper napkins, paper plates, plastic cutlery, and numerous plastic tubs of salsa and beans. Nearby three portable picnic tables were set up with aluminum lawn chairs. An ice chest contained cold cans of soda for a quarter apiece.
We parked as close as we could and eased into a line that was easily twenty-five people long. The wait was worth it, and I made no attempt to tidy up my manners as we ate.
“Geez, how do they do this? It’s great!” I said with my mouth half-full.
“Santa Maria barbecue. That’s tri-tip,” he said. “You rub it with salt, pepper, and garlic salt, and cook it over red oak.”
“Fabulous.”
Both of us licked our fingers before opening the moist towelette packets provided with the meal. When my hands were clean, I said, “Thanks. What a treat.”
“You’re welcome.”
We walked back to his car, freeing up our lawn chairs for the people waiting to sit down. We lingered outside his car while he lit his after-meal cigarette. His thin candy-coating of mirth had dropped away and something darker had emerged. This was not a happy man. There was a heaviness about him that seemed to taint the very air. Apropos of nothing, he held up his cigarette. “Know why I’m doing this?”
“She won’t let you smoke inside.”
He flicked a look at me. “How’d you know?”
“I was in the house. No ashtrays.”
“She runs a tight ship.”
“A lot of people feel that way about smoking,” I said mildly, not mentioning that I was one.
“Hey, don’t I know it. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that.”
I didn’t ask what “that” he was referring to. Instead I said, “Fine. We can talk about Violet, then.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “She was a tramp.”
Kathy had used the same term. I said, “Come on. Everybody says she was a tramp. Tell me something I haven’t heard.”
I watched his face, wondering what was going on behind his eyes.
He studied the bright ember of his cigarette. “Kathy’s jealous of her.”
“Is or was?”
“Is.”
“That takes some doing. Violet’s been gone for thirty-four years.”
“Try telling her that.”
“I thought they barely knew each other.”
“Not quite true. Liza Mellincamp was Kathy’s best friend. Then Violet came along and Liza got caught up in the Sullivan family drama. Liza’s parents were divorced, which in those days was a much bigger deal than it is today. Now it’s the norm. Back then it wasn’t scan dalous, but it was looked on as low-class. And there was Violet, already outside the pale. She took Liza under her wing. Kathy couldn’t stand it.”
“Is that why she hated Daisy?”
“Sure, she hated her. Daisy was another link to Violet. Liza spent a lot of time at the Sullivans’. She also had a boyfriend that summer, though he broke off the relationship the same weekend Violet disappeared.”
“I don’t get it. So many events seem connected to Violet. Maybe not directly, but peripherally. You got fired. Tannie’s mother died.”
“Sometimes I think there are people who generate that stuff. They don’t mean to do it, but whatever happens to them ends up affecting everyone else. Day I got fired was the worst day of my life. Twenty years old and there went any hope of a college education.”
“What were you planning to do?”
“I don’t even remember. Something better than what I got. I’m not a salesman. I don’t like manipulating people. Cramer sees it as a game and it’s one that he wins. The whole deal makes me sick.”
“But it looks like you’re doing okay.”
“You ought to see my credit card bills. We can barely make ends meet. Kathy’s out there spending money faster than I can earn it. Country club membership. The new house. The clothes. Vacations. She doesn’t like to cook, so most nights we eat out…” He stopped and shook his head. “You know the irony?”
“Oh, do tell. I love irony,” I said.
“Now she tells me she needs her ‘space.’ She broke the news to me last night. She says with the girls as good as gone, she thinks it time for her to reevaluate her goals.”
“Divorce?”
“She’s not using the word, but that’s what it amounts to. Tiffany’s wedding will keep her entertained, but after that, it’s every man for himself. Meanwhile, she thinks I should find a place of my own. When she called earlier today? I was hoping she’d changed her mind, but all she wanted was to make sure I didn’t mention it to you.”
“Oops.”
“Yeah, oops. I’ve spent years doing what I’m told, giving her everything she wants, for all the good it did. Now it’s freedom she wants and I’m supposed to foot the bill for that, too. She probably has a stud in the wings. Not that I’ve asked. She’d lie to me anyway so what’s the point? The only good part is I don’t have to take any more crap off of her.”
“Counseling’s not an option?”
“Counseling for what? She won’t admit we’ve got a problem, just that she needs ‘distance’ so she can get ‘clarity.’ I should get a little clarity myself-hire some hotshot attorney and file before she does. That would shake her to her shoes.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I had advice for you.”
“Who needs advice? I could use some comic relief.”
“Maybe she means what she says; she needs breathing room.”
“Not a chance. She must have been planning this for months, waiting until we moved before she lowered the boom.” He smoked in silence, leaning against the door on the driver’s side while I leaned against the fender near him, both of us watching the crowd thin around the barbecue. Like a trained therapist, I let the silence extend, wondering what he’d offer by way of filling it in. I was just about to get antsy and jump into the breech myself, when he spoke up. “Here’s something I never told anyone about Violet. This is minor, but it’s weighed on my mind. The night she disappeared? I saw the car.” I didn’t look at him for fear of breaking the spell.
“Where?”
“Off New Cut Road. This was long after dark. There was road construction going on so everything was torn up. I’d been driving around for hours, more depressed than I’ve ever been in my life. Except maybe now,” he added, dryly.
I could feel the hairs go up along the back of my neck, but I didn’t want to push. “What was she doing?”
“I didn’t see her. Just the Bel Air. I figured she was having car trouble… like maybe she’d run out of gas… but I didn’t give a shit. I thought, she’s so smart, let her figure it out herself. Later, when I heard she was gone, I should have mentioned it to the cops. At first, I didn’t think it was relevant, and later, I worried it would look like I’d had something to do with it.”