“Tell me more about Betty,” he said.
Heidi looked sad and shook her head. “Well, for one thing, her name wasn’t really Betty. She was in the country illegally. She couldn’t get a regular job because…she doesn’t have a social security number, and she doesn’t pay taxes.” She sniffed. “She lives in my building because the landlord is an asshole who doesn’t ask questions ’cuz it’s a roach motel. Half the tenants just name the rats and pretend they’re pets. Genevieve talked to her one time about a way for her to get the right papers so she could stay in the country.” She hesitated, looking at Didi again. “I’m the one who called the police. I called from the pay phone down the street. But they wanted me to fill out a lot of forms, and…anyway, they didn’t do nothing. But I got Maria Rodriguez from my building to go down and file a report. She even took a day off work to do it. Didi and I made the time up for her, though. She scrubs floors.” She hesitated, a strange look on her face. “Are you thinking Didi and I should scrub floors, too? That anything would be better than what we do? Maria has a scar and she’s self-conscious, otherwise she’d be out here, too. Don’t fool yourself that there aren’t a lot of women out there tired of scrubbing and more than willing to hit the streets.”
“Heidi, I wasn’t about to judge you, I swear. I’m grateful for whatever you can tell me.”
Heidi leaned back, not looking quite so friendly. “Right. ’Cuz this time a rich girl disappeared.”
“Heidi, I was hired because a rich girl disappeared. I hope I can stop whatever is happening so no more girls disappear, rich or poor.”
“Don’t forget the Mimic,” Didi said.
Heidi waved a hand in the air. “When he dressed up, the Mimic was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. He was taken by accident, I bet.” She stared hard at Joe. “And they’re dead, aren’t they? They’re all dead. And you know what? I told the cops Betty disappeared in a black sedan, a nice sedan, but they think she disappeared after that. Even though they never found anyone who saw her after me. Why don’t people ever want to believe that rich people can be perverts? Those assholes are looking for a bum, a dealer…some low-life creep.”
“Heidi, believe me, the cops aren’t fools. They put policewomen out on the streets for a while, right?”
Heidi let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, they did. But I never saw that car when those girls were around. Though…hey!” She sat back suddenly, staring at him. “I know you.”
“You do?”
“You’re dead.” Her mouth opened in an O. “I saw your picture in the paper.”
“You saw my cousin’s picture in the paper. He was in the paper a lot. He wrote a column. He was killed last year in an explosion at Hastings House.”
“Hastings House?” Heidi murmured.
“Do you know something about Hastings House?”
Heidi shrugged sadly. “No…but I remember Betty saying how Genevieve wanted to go to that party thing there last year—the one that ended up with that explosion. She told Betty some snooty society friend of her aunt’s was in charge but she wasn’t going to beg to be invited. She used to walk by the place all the time, though.”
Those words stunned him into silence. He wasn’t sure what this new information meant, if anything, but it was a link. A tenuous link.
A “link” that might mean nothing.
Lots of people walked past historic sites. Some people walked by them every day, hurrying to work, never noticing them. But others loved the fact that they could walk by places that had a history, that meant something.
“I see,” he said at last. What the hell did he see?
“Heidi, is there anything else?” Didi asked for him.
“I don’t think so….” She brightened suddenly. “I have Betty’s things. That bastard landlord just dumped them in the hall, so I I took them. Just in case she came back, you know? You can see them. I mean, if you’re interested.”
“I would love to go through Betty’s things.”
“I told you—I live in a roach motel.”
“I’ll see if I can kill a few for you. Lead the way.”
Leslie did stay at the hospital. She stayed for two hours. Then she checked herself out, collected her belonging and discovered that she had a dozen messages on her cell phone. One of them was from Brad, and she hastily called him as soon as she reached the street—determined to catch a cab and not ride the subway again, at least not that day.
He answered his phone immediately and went off on a tirade. What had happened to her? Why hadn’t she made sure someone called him? Was she all right? He was furious that he’d had to hear about what happened on the news. How could she do this to him?
“Brad, you’re being dramatic.”
“Really? Do you remember calling me, asking me to meet you this afternoon?” he demanded.
“And I still want to meet you. At Hastings House.”