"You didn't make a fool of yourself, Sugar, and I'm not going to apologize for trying to find out the truth."
"No apologies, huh? I like that. Me, I'm the exact same way. No wonder I took a shine to you." Brimley gutted the fish with one swipe of his hands, rinsed out the cavity with cold water, and set it down on the counter beside the other one. "I just hope this project of yours, this story or profile or whatever it is, I hope it's worth what you're stirring up."
"It's worth it."
"If you say so." Brimley rinsed off his hands. "You got some newspaper I can use?" he waited until Jimmy fetched him yesterday's paper, then wrapped the larger fish, tucking the ends in before slipping it back into the cooler. He wrapped Jimmy's fish equally carefully and put it into the refrigerator.
"Any tips on how I should clean my floors or iron my shirts?"
Brimley didn't answer, still bothered by something. He cleaned out the sink, put the innards and scales into the plastic garbage bag, and rinsed the rest down the sink. Then he hit the garbage disposal, watching Jimmy as it churned away, and flipped it off. The silence echoed. "You think Heather was targeting Walsh the day she was killed, don't you? That's where you're going with this. Just like Walsh's lawyers." He washed his hands with soap and water and worked the lather under his nails. He tore a paper towel off the roll, almost tearing the roll off the wall. "You think she tried to flirt her way into the movies?"
"I'm not sure." Jimmy liked Sugar, and Sugar had helped him, but he wasn't about to tell him what he had found out about Heather and April McCoy. The only people he trusted with the truth were Jane and Rollo, and even with them-well, "The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth"-that was just courtroom bullshit, something judges and lawyers used to fool the rubes.
"There's plenty of girls would have sex with a kid popping popcorn in the cineplex because they think he's in show business, but that don't mean Heather was one of them." Brimley's eyes hardened. "Even if she was, it don't change that fact that she's dead and that Garrett Walsh killed her."
"I'm not trying to insult her memory or step on your work, Sugar. I appreciate all the help you've given me. I know you didn't have to. It's like I told you at the beach house, you're not the bad guy here."
"Then how come I feel like the bad guy?"
"You had evidence and Walsh's confession. No one could fault your work."
Brimley balled up the paper towel in his big hands and tossed it into the garbage. "You want to do justice to that yellowjack, rub it inside and out with kosher salt and crushed black pepper, then slip a half-lemon and a dab of butter inside, maybe a pinch of fresh tarragon. Put it in a hot oven, a very hot oven, and roast it until it's crispy. Angels in heaven don't eat so well."
"Why don't you sit down for a while? We'll have another beer."
"No, I got to get going, but thanks." Brimley gently laid a big hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "After I found Heather Grimm… after that I had to see a shrink. I didn't want to, but it was departmental policy, so I went. I was glad I did." He gave Jimmy a squeeze. "You find out I messed up, you tell me. I can take it."
Chapter 35
The Healthy Life Cafe smelled of lentil soup and carrot juice and roasted garlic. Men in short-sleeved dress shirts were hunched over the small wooden tables, gobbling down soy burgers while they read the sports pages. An emaciated woman with bulging eyes and bright red lips sipped at a green milkshake-she reminded Jimmy of a dragonfly. Handmade banners on the walls proclaimed FREE TIBET! and MEAT IS MURDER and DEATH BEGINS IN THE COLON! He wondered why vegetarians always used so many exclamation points.
"Table for one?" asked the hostess, a clear-skinned young thing in a paisley sarong.
"I'm looking for some women from the McMahon Building. I was told they ate here."
The hostess waved a hand toward the back patio. "Smoker's gulch."
Jimmy heard laughter as he opened the door to the patio. He made his way through the haze to a table at the rear of the deck, where three women were puffing away over their salads, large women in loud dresses, their eyeglasses big as scuba masks. They quieted slightly as he approached. "Do you ladies work in the McMahon Building?"
"Who wants to know?" said a matron with a Kool Light bobbing at the corner of her mouth.
"I bet he's the guy Barbara talked about," said a younger, henna redhead, dropping ashes onto her enormous salad. "Barb said he walked sexy."
"You the one's been asking all over about Stephanie?" said a busty blonde with black roots, her eyes undressing Jimmy. "Why don't you walk for us, let us decide?"
"I like to hold back, maintain a little mystery." Jimmy pulled a chair up to the table, smiling. "I'm Jimmy Gage. I'm looking for Stephanie Keys."
"Not Keys anymore," said the bottle blonde, dipping pita bread in the dip. " 'First comes love-' "
" 'Then comes marriage,'" said Kool Light.
" 'Then comes Steffy with a baby carriage,'" singsonged the bottle blonde, grabbing Jimmy's leg.
Jimmy howled along with the three of them.
"What do you want with Stephanie?" said Kool Light. "She's a good kid."
"Not like me," said the bottle blonde, blowing smoke in Jimmy's face. "My old man works nights, and I'm sick of making love to my pocket rocket."
"Angie, you're awful," said Kool Light. "Is Stephanie in some kind of trouble? She run up her credit cards?"
"I just want to talk to her about her old boss, April McCoy."
"That was so sad," said the henna redhead.
"No, it wasn't," sneered the bottle blonde. "April treated her like crap."
"April was depressed, that's why she killed herself," said the henna redhead. "My brother is the same way. He's on Prozac now."
"Everybody is on Prozac now," said the bottle blonde. "That don't mean you can treat people like crap."
"Suicide is a sin." Kool Light stubbed out her cigarette in the hummus.
"Stephanie took it hard when April killed herself," said the henna redhead. "She changed overnight. In some ways I guess it was good, because Stephanie had been in a real rut, overeating and letting herself go. April's suicide was a wake-up call for her soul."
"Like on Oprah," said the bottle blonde.
"Like holy communion," said Kool Light.
Jimmy rocked in his chair, listening to the conversational rhythm they had going. The three of them had probably been having lunch together for the last ten years, working on their moves, graceful and fluid as double Dutch street champs. Jimmy could watch them eat and smoke and talk all afternoon. He wondered if Stephanie had been part of the group. He hoped so. She would be honest then too, and straightforward. She would tell him whatever she knew.
"You got a nice smile, mister." The henna redhead bit a carrot in half. "Don't he have a nice smile, girls?" She chewed noisily. "Anyway, after April did her thing, Stephanie went to work for this homecare-products distributor on the second floor and lost just a ton of weight. What was Stephanie on? Jenny Craig? Herbalife?"
"Weight Watchers."
"Slim-Fast."
"Whatever," said the henna redhead, "she lost a lot of weight. It seemed like every time she came back to visit, she had dropped another ten pounds."
"She's not working on the second floor anymore," said Jimmy. "Her last employer said she moved in with her boyfriend and that was the last he saw of her."
"The boyfriend didn't last six months. I told her he was all wrong for her," said the bottle blonde, "but she didn't want to listen to me. I've only been married three times-what could I possibly know about the male of the species?" She flipped her cigarette over the hedge surrounding the patio. "The boyfriend was some kind of sweaty sex machine or something from the way she talked."