Gertie lifted the phone and turned it around. “You’re not going to like it.”
“That bitch!” Shirleen screamed and grabbed Gertie’s phone from her. “I knew she was up to something when she wouldn’t come out with me tonight even though I offered to pay. Said she wasn’t feeling well. Amber has never once passed up a chance for a free beer because she wasn’t feeling well. When she had surgery, I sneaked her beer into the hospital.”
“I’ll text you the picture,” Gertie said, “but you have to save the picture and delete the text. I don’t want it traced back to me. I’ll delete the pictures off my phone as soon as you receive it.”
“I’m no rat,” Shirleen said. “Besides, you got me the answer I needed. I ain’t going to say it’s the one I wanted, ’cause that would be a lie. But at least now I know what I’m working with.”
Shirleen pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the text messages. She saved the photo, then deleted the message and showed us the log. “You’re in the clear.”
“Unless someone recognizes us on the security tapes,” I said.
Shirleen waved a hand in dismissal. “Those cameras haven’t worked in years. The manager keeps them up there to make the staff think they work. Keeps people from stealing if they think someone’s watching.”
“But if you know they don’t work, how does that stop anyone from stealing?” I asked.
“Oh, not everyone knows,” Shirleen said. “Just me and the day clerk. We both had a go at the guy from the security company that installed them. He told us the manager wouldn’t pay to repair them. But we don’t tell the others because that would leave less for us to pilfer.”
“Of course,” I said. I suppose it made perfectly good sense, assuming you weren’t burdened with morals.
“I appreciate you gals,” Shirleen said. “I best get back inside. I need to win some money at pool. I’m going to need cash for a new apartment and probably bail.”
“You live with your sister?” I asked.
“Not for long,” Shirleen said. “Of course, I might have to refill the shampoo bottle with Nair before I go. Things happen.” She gave us a big grin and headed back for the bar.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
*
By the time Ida Belle dropped me off at my house, the neighborhood was dark and silent. I invited them in for drinks and cookies, but they both begged off, saying they needed a shower and bed. Gertie promised to burn the costumes in her fireplace, just in case. I was pretty sure I needed the shower part, too. After all, I’d touched Winky’s hands and I knew where they’d been. But I’d spent so much time sleeping lately that I didn’t think bed would look inviting any time soon.
I took a long, hot shower, then headed downstairs for the kitchen. I still had some leftovers, but I grabbed one of the frozen dinners instead and popped it in the microwave. While that was cooking, I checked the refrigerator and reached for a beer, then changed my mind and pulled out a bottle of wine. By the time I’d gotten the cork out and poured a big glass for myself, the microwave dinged and I pulled my Salisbury steak and mac-and-cheese dinner out. It needed a bit of salt and pepper and could never be confused for Gertie’s or Ally’s home-baked offerings, but there was something comforting about sitting alone at the kitchen table and eating a frozen dinner like I had so many late nights in DC.
I pulled my laptop over and opened it up to check my email. Nothing from Harrison, which could be seen as either good or bad, depending on which side of the half a glass I wanted to be on. I flipped over to Facebook and pulled up Gertie’s account, shaking my head at the picture that was 80 percent butt and tattoo and 20 percent pie and oven. She’d gotten a couple of comments on it, including one from Celia who’d told her she ought to be ashamed. Like Celia was one to talk. She’d been sending someone young enough to be her son pictures of her half out of her best dress.
I scrolled down to the next post. It was fairly lengthy and didn’t include a picture. Usually Gertie wasn’t long-winded online, but as I started reading, I understood. This was her “I’m questioning my life” post. The one where she talked about the death of her fictitious aunt and money was nice but it couldn’t make up for all the things she hadn’t done. Then she went on to talk about how her aunt had never married or had children and had died alone, and while Gertie had friends that loved her, it wasn’t the same as sharing your life with someone day in and day out. I had to give her props for delivery. It was a fine snow job, and if I hadn’t known that’s what she was up to, I might have wondered if it was real.