Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘I feel you, John. Sloane drops five hundred bucks on lipstick, meanwhile your kid’s smart enough to go to college, but she’s being punished for not being born rich,’ Digby said. ‘Sloane says she can choose between Wellesley, where her mom went, and Wharton, where her dad went, because she’s guaranteed spots in both.’


John’s eyes narrowed at us in the mirror. He pulled over onto the shoulder of the road.

‘Mrs Bloom went to Vassar,’ John said.

‘Great,’ I said.

‘I drive these people around listening to them finesse each other all day long, so I know you’re finessing me right now. What d’you want, kid?’

‘Just a little information,’ Digby said.

John stepped out, opened my door, and said, ‘Get out.’

We were in the middle of nowhere on the interstate. The cars were going so fast, the limo shook every time one passed us.

‘Fix this, Digby,’ I said.

‘I don’t rat out the people I work for. The Blooms are very good to me,’ John said.

‘No, no … we don’t want anything on the Blooms. It’s Marina Miller we need to know about,’ Digby said.

‘Wh-what about her?’ John said.

‘You drove her around,’ Digby said.

‘Miss Bloom told me to.’ John was instantly defensive.

‘Relax. We’re just curious where you took her. If she met up with anyone,’ Digby said.

John just stared.

‘Listen. I know you’re worried about the police, but no one’s interested in that. Not us, not Sloane,’ Digby said. ‘By the way, was it Sloane’s idea that you not come forward with this information?’

‘Miss Bloom and I barely discussed the rides. And after Marina disappeared … well, it was never brought up again,’ John said. ‘But, th-there was one time, Marina got a nosebleed in the backseat …’

‘Ohhh … there’s blood evidence on the seats,’ Digby said. ‘You got nervous, you didn’t say anything, then three weeks went by and it went from looking bad to looking like guilt …’

John folded. ‘She went to a 7-Eleven in the Js mainly. She was weird.’

Digby explained later that the Js was a neighborhood in the old downtown core where crime was so bad, pizza places refused to deliver to it. The Js, by the way, stood for ‘the Jungle.’

‘She had me take her to a motel in the Js too. I didn’t see who she met up, with but she never checked in at the desk or anything. Just went straight up into one of the rooms,’ John said. ‘I really had nothing to do with her disappearance.’

‘It’s okay, John, we believe you,’ Digby said. ‘But we need you to show us where you took her.’

John climbed back into the car. As he pulled away, Digby whispered, ‘See, Princeton? This is what it’s like to be upstate political dynasty one-percenters. They tell their driver to take them wherever to do whatever and not only does he not ask questions, he protects their secrets.’ Digby checked his phone and said, ‘I was right, dammit. Mrs Bloom did go to Wellesley. I shouldn’t have flinched. I’ve got to learn to bluff better.’





TWENTY-TWO


John took us on a tour of the sketchiest parts of River Heights, places I’d only seen on the local news, and pointed out stops he’d made with Marina. We went through a railroad crossing into a landscape of chain-link fences and bombed-out apartment buildings with garbage bags over smashed windows. It was literally the wrong side of the tracks.

‘Funny there are abandoned shopping carts everywhere, because there aren’t any actual supermarkets … just chips and beer for miles around. And, of course, the one-two punch that really socks it to ’em …’ Digby pointed at a payday loan place and the liquor store beside it. ‘Location, location, location … people living here don’t stand a chance.’

I looked at the pedestrians. ‘It’s like we’re on a different planet. I never see these people anywhere else in town.’

‘Look at a bus map and count how many lines go from downtown to anywhere else in River Heights. Just a few in the daytime for maids and cleaners to get to and from their jobs,’ he said. I guess I made some kind of despairing sound, because Digby said, ‘Oh, this is nothing. Wait until you see how undocumented farm workers live outside town past the West Perimeter Highway.’

It was a relief when John dropped us off at my boring suburban house.

‘You know, it’s one thing for Marina to go slumming downtown twice a week, but … run away to do it full-time?’ I said.

‘I watched Nick Boskowitz drink an entire glass of OJ through a straw stuck up his nose, then burp the alphabet all the way to W before he threw the OJ back up on himself,’ Digby said. ‘Never underestimate the stupidity of the average teenager.’

‘Nick Boskowitz is my social studies partner. We’re supposed to write a presentation on World War I chemical warfare. Man, I have the worst luck partnering up.’

‘That comment’s really about me, right? Because we’re partners on the project? Relax … we have weeks.’

‘To do a project we supposedly worked on for months.’

‘Chill. Seriously.’