“Any information I can offer you about the place?”
I shrieked and whipped around, clutching my chest to prevent my heart from tearing through my shirt. “Shit!”
I stared at the man who’d shortened my life by years.
He was in his early thirties, with a cresting wave of dark hair cutting across his forehead. His eyes were dark and his eyebrows were thick, while his mustache and beard appeared to be a recent undertaking that, so far, wasn’t a success. He wore an oversize black shirt that hung down over his jeans in a style that was meant to disguise his weight. I put him a good thirty pounds over the line, though it didn’t really look bad on him. I was going to tell him so and decided I’d best not. Men sometimes mistake a compliment for an invitation to become better acquainted.
His smile was apologetic, his teeth white, but cluttered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you go around the side of the house as I was driving up. I figured you noticed the For Rent sign and wanted to check it out.” He’d smoked a cigarette at some point in the past fifteen minutes.
“Actually, I’m looking for Ethan Dace.”
“Too late. He pulled up stakes a week ago. At least from what the neighbors say.”
“How long did he live here?”
“I don’t know. Eighteen months? Might have been less.”
“I take it he left without giving notice.”
“He also left owing two months’ rent. Are you a bill collector?”
I shook my head. “I’m here on a personal matter. His father died. I figured someone should let him know.”
“Why you?”
“We’re distantly related.”
“How distant?”
“Second cousins, once or twice removed. That’s a guess on my part. I’ve never understood the distinctions.”
“I take it you never met Ethan.”
“I’ve never had the occasion.”
“You’re in for a disappointment. I’m not saying the guy’s a bum, but he’s a lousy tenant. He was a slow pay and sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to pay at all, which I was supposed to tolerate on account of he’s such a talented guy. If I came knocking on his door to collect, he’d pony up, but it always seemed to take him by surprise. I was about to evict him anyway, so he saved me the paperwork. Get a deadbeat in a rental and it’s damn near impossible to get ’em out.”
“You know where he went?”
“Most likely back to his wife. This is the third or fourth time she’s kicked him out. Bugged her no end that he wouldn’t get a job. Able-bodied white male and all he does is sit around and play his guitar. Time to time, he collects unemployment, but that doesn’t go on forever. Problem is, with him gone, she’s stuck shelling out a bundle for child care. She’s got one in school and two were enrolled in what they call ‘pre-kindergarten’ to the tune of two hundred bucks a week. Per kid. She’s better off with him on the premises. What the hell else is he doing with his days?”
“Why’d you rent to him if you knew he didn’t have a job?”
“I felt sorry for the guy.”
“What line of work is he in?”
“Musician, which I don’t think of as a ‘line of work.’ It’s more like goofing off, accompanied by a musical instrument. He has this band, Perforated Bowel—or something equally profound. He’s lead singer and doubles on guitar. The other two play keyboard and drums, respectively. They have gigs in town couple of weekends a month. That’s the claim at any rate, for what it’s worth.”
“Is he any good?”
“Don’t know. I never heard him play. He says he’s booked into the Brandywine, but I haven’t checked it out. With him gone, it’s no concern of mine.”
“You know his wife’s name?”
“It’s on his application. Heitzerman, Heidelman. Heidie-something. I can’t remember how it’s spelled and I might have got it wrong. First name’s Mamie. Like in Eisenhower. House is in her name. I called her, hoping she’d be kind enough to pay his back rent. No such luck. Chick’s smarter than I thought.”
“Wonder why she didn’t take his name when they married.”
“She probably didn’t like the family association. I guess you heard what happened to his dad.”
“The business in 1974?”
“Was it that long ago?”
“That’s the year he went to prison.”
“I’d have said, five, six years. You’re talking fourteen.”
“Time flies,” I remarked. I gestured toward the empty house. “Was Ethan the one who stole the doorknobs?”
“The doorknobs are gone?”
“Some of them. Did he strip the carpeting?”
“I did that. He kept his dogs locked up while he was out and they tore the place apart. Only two of ’em, but they must have egged each other on. Get rid of the smell of dog pee, I’d have to burn the place down. You smell that or is it just me?”
“Place stinks.”
“Appreciate the confirmation. He talked me out of a pet deposit. I must’ve been smokin’ crack that day. You’re not a local?”
“I’m not. I drove up from Santa Teresa this morning.”
“What’d he die of, the old guy?”
I didn’t see any reason to tell this guy the whole of it so I shrugged. “I don’t know the details. Just the broad strokes.”
“The broad strokes being what?”
“Probably a heart attack,” I said. “I’d like to talk to Ethan’s sisters as long as I’m in town. Ellen and Anna. Are they still around?”
“The younger one for sure. Anna’s the wild child. She does manis and pedis in some dump of a salon. The other girl, I never met.”
“‘Manis and pedis’—meaning manicures and pedicures?”
“Whoa! You are really sharp.”
I ignored the sarcasm. “Do you know how I can reach them?”
“What’s your stake in this?”
“What makes you ask?”
“I can’t believe you drove all the way up here for something you could’ve done by phone.”
“I didn’t have Ethan’s number. Besides, if I’d called I’d have missed him by a week, right? I thought it would be a kindness if they heard it from me instead of reading about it in the paper.”
“You’re a good Samaritan.”
“Some would call it that.”
“Any rate, you don’t want to rent the place, it’s time I locked up.”
“I appreciate the information about Ethan’s wife. I’ll see if I can track her down.” I held a hand out. “My name’s Kinsey Millhone.”
“They call me ‘Big Rat.’ And don’t ask. Long story and it really doesn’t have a point.”
We shook hands.
“If I run into Ethan, I’ll tell him you’re in town,” he said.
“He won’t know who I am. I didn’t find out about him until yesterday.”
“You expect to be here overnight?”
“Unless I catch up with him today.”
“I run into him, I’ll let you know. Where you staying?”
I didn’t think it was any of his business, so of course I lied.
“Don’t know yet. I haven’t found a motel. What would you suggest?”
“Padre Hotel. It’s been around for years. Used to be high-class. Now it’s so-so, but location’s good. Close to downtown.”