“What happens if he realizes you’re as clueless as he is?”
“I hope to be gone by then. If not, I’ll shoot him with the same gun he used to kill his dog and plead temporary insanity. Given what he’s told everyone about my mental state, who could believe otherwise?”
“I don’t understand what you’re waiting for. Why not get in the car and go while you can?”
She shook her head. “For the moment, he’s convinced everything’s fine, which means he’ll go away as planned. If he suspects anything’s amiss, he’ll cancel his trip. If I can just get him out of here, I’ll have a three-day head start.”
I was shaking my head in despair, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t see an alternative. She knew him better than I did. I wanted to put her in the car and hightail it out of there, but I couldn’t talk her into it. “I guess you know what you’re doing,” I said.
“Oh, right. Something I forgot about. Along with the ticket stubs and stuff like that, he had this junky bunch of costume jewelry; mostly earrings. They were in with the rest of his souvenirs.”
I felt my heart catch. “Souvenirs?”
“Well, not souvenirs exactly, but mementos; reminders of where he’s been.”
I pressed a business card into her hand. “I want you to call me as soon as you’re somewhere safe. I mean this. If you need me to drive down and pick you up, just say the word.”
“I will.”
“Do you swear?”
She raised her right hand and I took that as an oath.
36
When I got home, I shuffled through my index cards until I’d found Christian Satterfield’s home phone number. The last time I’d called, Pauline had made short work of me. I was still operating on the assumption she was Christian’s grandmother. This time when I dialed, I had a better handle on the situation.
After two rings, she picked up with the same gruff “Hello.”
I said, “Hi, Pauline. This is Kinsey. You remember me? Christian’s friend. We met when you and Geraldine were living over on Dave Levine Street.”
There was a pause while she tried to place me. “I don’t believe I do, but that was some years ago.”
“Never mind. It was just the one occasion. Listen, I hear Christian’s back from Lompoc and I was hoping to catch up with him. Is he there?”
“He’s not.”
“Do you expect him anytime soon?”
“Well, honey, I have no idea. You know him. He comes and goes as he pleases.”
“If I leave my number, could you have him get in touch as soon as he comes in? Nothing urgent, but I’d appreciate it.”
She took down my office number as I recited it slowly.
Then I said, “Is he still hanging out at that little bar up the street from you?”
“He’s there most nights. If you don’t hear back, you drop in after nine o’clock, you can’t miss him. I might see you there myself.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks so much.”
? ? ?
Lou’s Bar and Grill was right where I’d seen it last, at the corner of Dave Levine and Oliver, half a block north of Trace. The interior was small and dark, except for two pinball machines in the rear that gave off a garish glow and tinkled merrily like the slots in a Las Vegas casino. I was decked out in my usual jeans and turtleneck, but I’d swapped out my tennis shoes for my boots and I’d shrugged into my blazer, which I fancied contributed a jaunty air of confidence.
I had to park around the corner, but the walk was only a half block. I arrived at 8:45, allowing myself time to get a feel for the place, which was half full—all men, and half of them with lighted cigarettes. Like many neighborhood establishments, there was a certain proprietary air among the patrons. These were the drinkers who showed up after work and stayed until closing time. They didn’t appreciate strangers in their midst. A number of them turned and stared at me pointedly before looking away. I ignored the hostility and found a seat at the bar with an empty stool on either side.
The bartender, middle-aged and male, appeared, and I ordered a Diet Pepsi just as a change of pace. Sitting at a bar alone can be a tricky proposition. On the whole, I thought it was better to be judged haughty and aloof than as a woman on the prowl. If I’d had a paperback mystery in my shoulder bag, I’d have pulled it out and buried my nose in it.
At ten after nine, the door opened and Christian ambled in. I could see him do a quick crowd assessment, searching for familiar faces. His gaze passed over me and then came back. He took his time circling the room, greeting people here and there. Eventually he came up on my right side as though entirely by accident.
“This seat taken?”
“Help yourself,” I said.