Blowing Smoke

by Barbara Block

  “Actually, I don’t care if you like to get it on with pink elephants. I just want to talk to you about Pat Humphrey.”

  “That’s why you’re here?”

  “Yup.”

  He dropped his fists to his side. “What about her? Hillary said that was settled. She said she gave you your money. Don’t tell me she didn’t?”

  “No. She did. Only now Pat Humphrey has disappeared.”

  “Okay.” He fingered one of the beads on his dress. “But what’s that got to do with me?”

  “Your mother is worried. She hired me to find out what happened to her.” Out of the corner of my eye I watched Zsa Zsa flop down by the door.

  “She should be glad she’s gone.”

  “Evidently she doesn’t share your opinion.”

  Louis cracked his knuckles.

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  He made a minute adjustment to his wig. “A couple of weeks ago, I think.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not sure. I don’t keep my social calendar in my head.”

  “What were you doing this morning?”

  “I was sleeping. I work nights. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “And you don’t have any idea where Pat Humphrey could have gone?”

  Louis shrugged. “No. Why should I? It’s not as if we keep in touch.”

  “You don’t seem especially upset at the news,” I observed. “Could that be because you already know about it?”

  The sounds of a baby wailing disconsolately seeped through the trailer walls.

  “Even if I did know—which I don’t—that doesn’t make me responsible. And you’re right. I’m not upset. Poor Mom. Not being able to chat with Sheba.” Louis shook his head in mock concern. “What happened? Did Humphrey take all of Mom’s money and clear out?”

  “If she did, your mother didn’t tell me about it. Would it bother you if she had?” The smells in the trailer were getting to me. I wished Louis would open up a window.

  “Why should it?”

  “Considering that it’ll all be yours one day, yours and your sisters, I find that answer odd.”

  He smoothed the front of his dress down. “By the time Geoff is done, there won’t be anything left to get.” Louis swatted at a fly. Perspiration was beginning to seep through his pancake makeup, leaving creases around his mouth and nose. “My feeling is, let her get what she can. That’s less for Geoff. It was Hillary’s idea to hire you. Not mine. She was the one who didn’t like her.”

  “But you do?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  I shifted my weight from one foot to another and tried to keep impatience out of my voice. The baby’s cry was sharper. Where the hell were its parents? “Shana Driscoll tells a different story.”

  Louis glared at me. “Yeah? Such as?”

  “She says she heard you and Pat Humphrey fighting the other day.”

  “Well, she’s full of shit.” And he made a chuffing sound with his mouth. “She was the one that was fighting with her, not me.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “I saw them.”

  “Why should Shana lie?”

  Louis laughed unpleasantly. “To get me in trouble with my mother.”

  “And why would she want to do that?”

  “Because that’s what she’s been doing since she arrived. I don’t think a word of truth has come out of that woman’s mouth since I met her. Shana is without a doubt the worst thing that has happened to Mom.”

  “The worst?”

  Louis flushed. “The second worst,” he amended.

  “What were they fighting about?”

  “I don’t know. I was too far away. I just saw them. They were standing on the tennis court.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “At the house? Visiting. You mean I don’t have the right to go see my own mother?” he demanded when I didn’t reply.

  “I didn’t say that.” I looked around at the trailer. “So what made you live here?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “I like it. It’s cheap. It’s convenient. The people here are nice.”

  “They’re certainly different...”

  “From what I grew up with? You’d better believe it, sister. Your car dies and you need to go somewhere, they’ll loan you theirs.”

  “Unlike your mother.”

  “My mother,” Louis said bitterly, “will only give me something if it makes her look good. That’s all she cares about. Everything goes for that goddamned house of hers and for Geoff.” Behind the fake eyelashes, I could see the hurt in his eyes. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish getting dressed.”

  “Going to a party?” I said, trying to keep the conversation going.

  “Yes. Not that it’s any concern of yours.” And he turned and went deeper into the trailer.

  He stopped, then turned and faced me when he got to two long, narrow tables, set up on either side of the trailer. They were crammed with cartons filled with blue-and-white-enamel tinware, old cooking implements, irons, paperweights, old coins, framed illustrations, and costume jewelry.

  “What are you still doing here?” he said. “I answered your questions. Now get out.”

  “All in good time.” I picked up a paperweight containing the Empire State Building and shook it. Little flurries of snow swirled around. I’d had one like it when I was a little girl. My father had bought it for me. It had stood on my nightstand for years. I shook it again, wondering what had happened to it.

  “Put that down,” he ordered.

  “Sorry.” I gestured toward the tables. “What do you do with all of this stuff?”

  “I sell it to people that want to buy it.”

  “You’re a dealer?”

  “In a small way. Yes. Now, will you leave.”

  “In a minute. Who do you sell to?” I asked as we moved toward the dining room/kitchen area.

  “Other dealers. Collectors.”

  “Do you ever sell to your mother?”

  Louis snorted. “Get real. The most expensive thing I have sells for five hundred. Even the ashtrays in Rose’s place cost more than that.”

  I picked up a rhinestone crescent. “I used to have a pin like this. I threw it out.”

  Louis took it out of my hand. “Too bad. Because I can sell it to a store in New York City for about four hundred dollars. Now will you go? I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s the case.”

  “Somehow I don’t care.”

  I pointed to a piece of blue-and-white pottery. “That looks like something your mother has.”

  “My mother’s is antique. That is a copy.” He smoothed his dress down. “Unless you have anything more to say. I suggest you leave and let me finish getting dressed.”

  But I didn’t want to. Something on the table was making Louis nervous, and I wanted to find out what it was. I took another look. All I saw was a jumble of costume jewelry. And then I saw it. The thing he didn’t want me to see. A gold chain with a pansy charm lying on top of a pink poodle. A similar piece of jewelry had been hanging around Patricia Humphrey’s neck when I’d spoken to her. Louis followed my gaze. He went to pick up the chain, but I scooped it up before he could and inspected it. The petals were enameled. A small ruby chip was imbedded in the center. Two tiny emeralds gleamed on each small leaf.

  “Nice. Where’d you get this?”

  Louis glowered at me. “Forget what you’re thinking.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “For your information, Pat gave that to me. She wants me to sell it for her.”

  “If she gave it to you, why are you so nervous about me finding it?”

  “I’m not. I don’t give a shit what you think.” He extended his hand. “May I have it back now?”

  “No, you may not.”

  “That’s not your property.”

  “Too bad.” I s
lipped the piece of jewelry in my jeans’ pocket. “I think I’ll let Pat Humphrey tell me what she wants to do with it when I find her.”

  “Give it back.” Louis’s voice rose.

  “That’s if she can talk when I do.”

  He clenched his jaw. “That’s stealing.”

  “That should be the least of your concerns. But”—I pointed to the phone—“you can always call the police and report me. Go ahead,” I urged. “What’s the matter? Afraid to dial the number?”

  “If I were responsible for Pat Humphrey’s disappearance, why would I be stupid enough to leave a piece of her jewelry around? Why wouldn’t I have gotten rid of it?”

  “I’ve observed that people are inclined to do remarkably silly things when they’re stressed.”

  Louis moved toward me. “Let me have it.”

  “I don’t think so. Perhaps it’s time you called your mother’s lawyer and had a chat with him.”

  Blotches of color blossomed on Louis’s cheeks. “Like hell I will. God, you really are some piece of work,” he ranted. “You barge in here without calling. You insult me. You steal something that isn’t even mine, and to top it all off, you’re telling me I had something to do with Pat Humphrey’s disappearance. Trust Hillary to hire some brainless piece of shit like you.”

  “Brainless?” I snorted. “Unlike you, you fashion-impaired cocksucker.”

  As I watched Louis clench his fist and draw back his arm, I wondered which words he’d found more objectionable: fashion-impaired or cocksucker? Probably fashion-impaired.

  It occurred to me a little too late that this man weighed at least eighty pounds, maybe even one hundred pounds, more than I did. Plus he’d fought professionally. He was not a good person to piss off. And it was too late to take my words back.

  I tried to knee him, but he was too fast for me—even with his dress on.

  I should have tried ducking instead.

  Not that that would have done too much good, either.

  There was really no place to go.

  Louis caught me on the side of my jaw with an uppercut. I felt my head snap back, I felt a blinding pain behind my eyes, and then I didn’t feel anything at all.

  Chapter Twelve

  I felt something warm on my cheek. The warm became wet. Something tickled my skin. Then I realized Zsa Zsa was licking my face. I opened my eyes. The light on the trailer ceiling seemed to be pulsing on and off in time to the sound of a baby crying. Probably the same baby I’d heard earlier. Why couldn’t someone shut that kid up, for God’s sake? I wondered how Louis dealt with it. Louis! That cross-dressing putz. I saw his fist smashing into my jaw and closed my eyes again.

  Zsa Zsa barked and started licking the corner of my mouth. It tickled. “Okay.” I turned my head. “Enough. Go away.”

  But she kept right on doing what she had been, and I let her, mostly because I couldn’t summon up the energy to push her off. Besides, I liked the floor. The linoleum tile was comfortable. Nice and cool. I decided I could stay there for a while. A really long while. I was drifting off again when I heard something ringing. A phone. It went on and on. Someone should get it. Jeez. Couldn’t anyone get any rest around here? Then I realized it was my cell phone. Which was where? I searched my mind. Floor? Backpack? In the car? And then I remembered.

  “Hello,” I groaned into it after I’d managed to extract the damned thing from my pocket.

  “Robin? Is that you?”

  “No, Manuel. It’s Zsa Zsa.” I sat up and instantly regretted the action. The room started spinning. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

  “You sound funny. Are you okay?”

  “Not really. But I’ll live.”

  “Where are you?”

  I explained.

  “I’m coming over.”

  “Don’t. I’ll be fine.” I massaged my temples with my free hand. “What did you call about?”

  “I just wanted to tell you that Bethany didn’t go back to that shack tonight. But I’ve got a couple of other places I think she might be.”

  “Call me when you get something.”

  “You sure you’re all right? I can come get you.”

  “I’m fine, honestly. I promise to call you if I need any help.” And I hit the OFF button.

  Zsa Zsa wagged her tail and began cleaning my fingers while I ran my tongue over my teeth—mercifully, they were all there. I moved my jaw up and down. It hurt—and would probably hurt more tomorrow—but I’d been lucky. Nothing seemed to be broken. It took me another couple of minutes before I was able to push myself up from the floor. Zsa Zsa stayed by my feet, encouraging me with little barks. I dug through my pockets. Pat Humphrey’s chain was gone, along with Louis. It looked as if Rose Taylor had been right to be worried about her children’s involvement in Humphrey’s disappearance, after all. What is it they say about a mother’s intuition?

  I wondered how far Rose Taylor’s extended as I saw the wig and the dress her son had been wearing thrown in a pile by the bed. Guess the party was off. I looked in the bathroom. The wastepaper basket was filled with torn pieces of paper with makeup on them. Louis’s false eyelashes were sitting on the bathroom shelf, looking like the spider that had been crawling on my arm earlier that evening.

  I wondered where Louis had gone off to as I contemplated them. To where Pat Humphrey was—if she was alive? To move her body if she wasn’t? To K mart? To see Debbie? Or maybe he had just panicked and was out riding around, trying to figure out what to do, like the rest of us poor slobs.

  I picked up the lipstick sitting on the edge of the sink—Passion Pink. For a few seconds I pictured him buying it. Had the girl at the checkout counter said anything when Louis had bought it? Had he told her it was for his girlfriend? Or was it Debbie’s? Then a picture of Pat Humphrey flashed through my mind. Had she been wearing lipstick? I couldn’t remember. Not that it mattered.

  As I put Louis’s lipstick down, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. God, between my swelling jaw, my hair plastered to my head, and the big black circles under my eyes, I looked like a poster child for abused women. Or an accident victim. I just hoped George wasn’t at my house when I finally made it home. I really didn’t want him to see me looking like this. I didn’t want to have to listen to what he had to say. It would be nice if he’d hug me and bring me an aspirin and an ice pack. But he wouldn’t. He’d get angry and tell me what an idiot I was for getting myself in this situation in the first place. What made it even worse was that he was right.

  Oh, well. I opened the medicine-cabinet door and examined the contents. Louis had stocked up on plenty of Q-tips, mouthwash, various pimple creams, and a variety of pills. I took the vials out and examined them. We had sleeping pills and the latest antidepressants, prescription antihistamines, something for heartburn, and over in the corner, buried behind a bottle of aspirin, something a little more interesting. Fifteen tabs of ecstasy in a bottle. The feel-good drug of the nineties. It’s not just for kids anymore. Also known as E. Originally used by psychiatrists to help their patients open up, then at raves by club kids, and now by all sorts of people. A couple of tabs are supposed to relax you. Makes any sort of physical contact really nice. Side effects are minimal if you use it once in a while.

  Personally, I’d never tried it. It had come on the scene after my druggie days. I swallowed about five of Louis’s aspirin. I was thinking that maybe I should take a couple of tabs and go rollin’, as the kids like to say, when Zsa Zsa ran out of the bathroom and started barking. Please, don’t let this be Louis coming back, I prayed as I went to see what was going on. I sure as hell wasn’t up for another dance with him. Maybe I should have let Manuel come get me, after all.

  But it wasn’t Louis. Zsa Zsa was barking at an attractive skinny girl standing in the middle of the trailer. She was in her mid-twenties. She’d buzzed her hair and bleached it out so it was platinum. She’d colored her lips a deep purple-brown and applied lots of eyeliner and mascara. She had a tattoo of a
barbed-wire strand circling her upper left arm. She was wearing a very short black skirt, a tight white T-shirt, and a pair of strappy wedges.

  “Where’s Louie?” she demanded.

  “He’s gone.”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “Friggin’ great. Did he say where he was going?”

  “No. He just left.”

  “Is he coming back?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”

  The girl moved closer. She put her hands on her hips and scrunched her eyes up. “So who are you, anyway?” she demanded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

  “My name is Robin Light. I’m guessing that you must be Debbie.”

  She started. “How did you know that?”

  “He thought I was you when he answered the door.”

  “I got held up.” She plunked her backpack on a cabinet top. “Was he pissed?”

  “A little.”

  “You saw the dress he was wearing, right?”

  I nodded.

  She grinned. “I helped sew it. I want to be a fashion designer. We’re gonna kick some butt at the party tonight.” And she threw her arms up and did a little victory dance.

  I almost felt guilty disillusioning her. “I think he might have changed his mind.”

  She came to a dead stop. “Whaddaya mean?”

  “I don’t think he’s going to the party.” I pointed to the bed. “He took the dress off.”

  “Oh, no.” She ran over, picked the dress off the bed, and cradled it in her arms. “I don’t believe this,” she cried. “I worked for hours on this. What happened?” Then another thought occurred to her. “What the hell did you do to him?”

  “What did I do to him?” I indicated my jaw. “Look what he did to me.”

  Debbie hugged the dress to her. “Louis would never hit someone outside the ring.”

  “Well, he did.”

  “I don’t believe you. I think you’re making it up.”

  “I’m not making my jaw up.”

  “Then he must have had a reason.” She squared her shoulders. “You must have done something to make him.”

  “Yeah. I asked him about Pat Humphrey.”

  Debbie tugged the front of her skirt down. “The pet-psychic lady? The one that’s practically shacked up with Louis’s mother?”