“Your roommate, Erika?” Nikki always did her homework.
“Yeah, Erika. Is she in some kind of trouble? She’s not like a crazed killer like in Single White Female, is she?”
Heat said, “No, actually we only know of Erika because she works with you at Location Location. That’s how we found you here at her place.”
Opal, who was still in her mismatched Gap flannels from bed, cleared her throat and folded her legs, pulling her knees toward her chest. “You were looking for me?”
“We tried you at your old apartment.”
“Yeah, I moved out of there.”
“Quite suddenly.”
“Uh, right.” She lit a cigarette and waited for Nikki to say something, and when she didn’t, Opal filled the void. “Yeah, well, I had a bad breakup with my girlfriend. She was coming around all hours, you know, just being a bitch, so I…” Opal finished the thought by sliding one palm off another like a jet taking off from an aircraft carrier.
“I know how that goes.” Heat poised her pen over her notebook. “May I ask your girlfriend’s name?”
“Ex. Do you have to involve her? She’s an actress on a movie that’s filming in town.” Again, Heat left a space. Opal Onishi filled it with a woman’s name that Heat probably didn’t need but wrote down anyway. What she really wanted to know was why Jeanne Capois had her address and if it was relevant to the murders. And why the sudden move? Nikki didn’t buy the harassing-lover story at all, and picked at that.
She appraised the living room of the East Village one bedroom, which was over-filled with cardboard cartons and stacked furniture. “Did you file any complaints against your girlfriend?”
“With the police? Nah. I just moved.”
“At midnight.”
Opal seemed smart and came up with quick answers. Some might even be true. “It’s easier to double-park a cargo van then. No traffic.”
Nikki decided to follow another course. “I’d like to show you a picture and ask if you can identify the person.” She placed an enlargement of the photo of Jeanne Capois on the coffee table. Opal stubbed out her cigarette and picked up the picture. Nikki couldn’t be sure if it was hesitation or simply an attempt at recollection, but she felt like it took a few seconds too long to answer.
“…Jeanne.” She offered the picture back. “Jeanne.” Heat let her keep it.
“Do you know her last name?”
She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Sorry, but I only know her as Jeanne.”
“And how do you know her?”
Again, that fraction of waffling gained the detective’s notice. Opal said, “I hired her to clean. She’s a maid.”
Heat noted her use of the present tense. But still, why all the mulling for simple answers? “May I ask when she did housekeeping for you?”
“Gee, I’d have to think. I dunno, three weeks ago, last time?”
“How did you hear about her?”
A pause, then, “Through a service or something, yeah. I don’t remember the name.”
Nikki offered, “Happy Hazels?”
Quickly, this time, jumping at it, Opal said, “Yeah, that’s it. Happy Hazels.”
This was all feeling improvised so Heat kept at it. “Did you pay her cash or check?” A long shot, but a paper trail from a check register might be useful.
“Cash.”
“How much?”
“Wow, you bear down.” Then she searched the ceiling. “I guess, what, fifty bucks?”
“You tell me.”
“Fifty. Why are you asking about Jeanne?”
“She’s a victim in a homicide investigation.” Heat watched her reaction, always crucial, but especially when there’s a sense of something being off. Opal Onishi’s face grew slack and she sat, staring into the middle distance. To Heat’s mind, a strong response, considering the hesitation at recalling her name.