“I’m not looking to buy a car.”
He removed his sunglasses and looked me over. “Then what can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I wanted to talk to you about Bernard Moore.”
The veil of defensive hostility he had erected fell away with recognition. “That’s where I’ve heard your name, from Bernard. You’re one of his buddies from Potter’s Cove, right?”
“Right,” I said.
“Man, some crazy stuff happening over there these days, huh?” he laughed lightly. “Bodies turning up in a town like that can’t be good. Hell, if you’re not safe in Potter’s Cove you’re not safe anywhere.”
“True enough.”
“Hope they catch the psycho.”
“Me too.”
Bentley slid the sunglasses back on, folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against one of the cars. “Anyway, I was really sorry to hear about Bernard’s passing. I know he had a hard time after he lost his mom and all, and then when they let him go here he was in rough shape. I didn’t even know he’d died, felt bad. After he left here I’d call him now and then, sometimes we’d hook up and have lunch. I hadn’t heard from him in a while and I knew he was having a hard time, so I called and talked to his—what was it, his cousin’s place he was staying at, right?—and he told me that Bernard… well, you know.”
“Committed suicide.”
“Yeah.” He sighed long and hard. “Bernard was—well I don’t have to tell you, being his bud and all—he was kind of out there in some ways, but he was a good guy. He was always cool to me. He was in the biz longer and helped me out when I started, taught me a lot about sales. Most guys won’t do that. They feel threatened by younger salesmen. There’s only so much of the pie to go around, you know? But Bernard was always cool. He talked about you and his friends from Potter’s Cove all the time. Said you guys were all pretty tight.”
I watched my reflection in the mirrors covering his eyes. “Yeah, we were close.”
“Well, I’m sorry for your loss, man, truly. Real shame.”
There was something inherently insincere about Chris Bentley. Like many people, he wore a mask of concern but was apathetic to anything that didn’t affect him directly. His controlled smile promised his indifference was nothing personal.
Since I’d been thinking rather than speaking, Bentley said, “So… is there something I can do for you, Alan?”
My mind hadn’t been clear enough to strategize prior to talking with him so I decided to wing it. “Bernard’s cousin Sammy gave us his duffel bag. Toward the end it was the only thing he had, and it had a bunch of his stuff in it—nothing of any real value—just sentimental. We went through it and we found a photograph.” I pulled it from my pocket but kept it down against my thigh while the rest of the lie formed in my mind. “There was a sealed envelope attached to it and a little sticky note saying to forward it to the person in the photograph. The only problem is, none of us know who the person is. I saw your card in his day planner and I remembered Bernard talking about you a lot—you were basically the only guy he worked with he liked—and I thought since you were friends with Bernard too, maybe you’d know who she is.” I displayed the photograph for him.
He leaned forward and looked at it for what seemed an inordinate amount of time.
“I’d really like to fulfill his wishes and get that letter to her,” I said, “but we don’t have any idea who she is.”
“OK, this must be an old picture, but you can still tell it’s her.” Bentley removed his sunglasses and stared at the photograph again. “You don’t know who this is?”
“Should I?”
He chuckled, shrugged and put his glasses back on. “Well if you guys were as close as Bernard always said you were, it’s a little weird you don’t recognize his girlfriend.”
Although I found nothing humorous in his answer I nearly laughed. All nerves. “His girlfriend?” I turned the photograph back to me and glanced at it. “This is Bernard’s girlfriend?”
“Used to be, I guess. I only met her a couple times but if I remember right they were together for at least a couple years. I didn’t see her the last few months before Bernard died and I don’t remember him mentioning her. I figured they’d split up or something. He was having such a bad run, it would’ve just figured, you know? Her name’s Claudia something—never got the last name. He used to bring her by now and then, usually just on quick stops, you know, like when he was getting his check or something like that. I really didn’t know her or anything, but that’s how he introduced her, as his girlfriend. He talked about her a lot too, but never really said much about her specifically, if you know what I mean, he’d just mention shit they did or if they went somewhere or something. Went to the movies last night with Claudia; hung out at Claudia’s house yesterday, that kind of thing.”
It was probably too late to appear anything but shocked. “Just seems strange that he never mentioned her to any of us,” I said.
“That it do.” Bentley nodded. “But to tell the truth, I always got the impression that Bernard had a lot going on people didn’t know about. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just saying, I think he kept a lot of things separate. His work life and his personal life, both sides—the side he had with you guys, his older friends, and the side he had with guys like me, guys he worked with. I think he kept them separate—hey, lots of people do, no big thing.”
I could tell he was holding back. He knew more but was treading carefully. I ignored the beads of sweat collecting in my hairline and did my best to put him at ease. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean, but seriously, I can’t remember Bernard ever having a girlfriend. Ever. And I’m having a real hard time believing that if she were his girlfriend he wouldn’t have told me about her. Knowing Bernard he would’ve been bragging night and day about it. Seems strange even for him.” He laughed lightly, and I joined him. Awkwardness hung in the air like the heat engulfing us. “Either way, I feel like I should get that letter to her. You don’t have any idea where I can find her or how I can get a hold of her, do you?”
The discomfort he was feeling revealed itself in his posture. “Look, man, I don’t want to get into stuff that maybe you don’t want to hear, OK?”
I played it cool, wondering if the smile he wore ever completely faded. “We’re both adults here, Chris, whatever you can tell me I’d appreciate. Between you and me, makes no difference who this chick is, I’m just trying to do what Bernard wanted and get her the letter.”
“New Bedford isn’t a small town,” he said, relaxing somewhat, his chin held a bit higher as if he were looking beyond me to something more important in the distance. The mirrors reflected the street behind me, and though I could see the Cherokee parked against the far curb, the glare from the slowly setting sun made it impossible to see Rick and Donald waiting inside. “But it is a small city, if you know what I mean. It’s not like everybody knows everybody else, but for natives everybody knows somebody who knows everybody else. In other words, the circles are small here. A couple of the guys here knew who Claudia was from being around the city for so long. One of them remembered her from school but couldn’t remember her name or anything, and the other one sort of knew who she was through a friend of a friend kind of thing. It’s not like they were friends with her or anything, but they basically knew who she was. And they knew what she was. She had drug problems even before high school the way I heard it, and she started hooking not long after that, was into it for years. I don’t know if she still is, or still was when she was seeing Bernard, but it’s probably a safe bet. Those kind don’t usually ever change.”