Her direct upward look, her earnest candor, reminded me of a child saying her prayers.
`Were you driving the car?'
`No. I don't mean I was with him. But I told him he could take it and I got the key for him out of Mother's room. It's really my car, too - I mean, to use.'
`She knows this?'
`Yes. I told her and Dad on Sunday. But they had already talked to the police, and after that they wouldn't change their story, or let me. They said it didn't alter the fact that he took it.'
`Why did you let him take it?'
`I admit it wasn't such a good idea. But he had to go someplace to see somebody and his father wouldn't let him use one of their cars. He was grounded. Mother and Dad were gone for the evening, and Tommy said he'd be back in a couple of hours. It was only about eight o'clock, and I thought it would be okay. I didn't know he was going to be out all night.'
She closed her eyes and hugged herself. `I was awake all night, listening for him.'
`Where did he go?'
`I don't know.'
`What was he after?'
`I don't know that, either. He said it was the most important thing in his life.'
`Could he have been talking about alcohol?'
`Tommy doesn't drink. It was somebody he had to see, somebody very important.'
`Like a drug pusher?'
She opened her wonderful eyes. `You're twisting meanings, the way Dad does when he's mad at me. Are you mad at me, Mr. Archer?'
`No. I'm grateful to you for being honest.'
`Then why do you keep dragging in crummy meanings?'
`I'm used to questioning crummy people, I guess. And sometimes an addict's own mother, or own girl, doesn't know he's using drugs.'
`I'm sure Tommy wasn't. He was dead against it. He knew what it had done to some-' She covered her mouth with her hand. Her nails were bitten.
`You were going to say?'
`Nothing.'
Our rapport was breaking down. I did my best to save it. `Listen to me, Stella, I'm not digging dirt for the fun of it. Tommy's in real danger. If he had contacts with drug users, you should tell me.'
`They were just some of his musician friends,' she mumbled. `They wouldn't do anything to hurt him.'
`They may have friends who would. Who are these people?'
`Just some people he played the piano with this summer, till his father made him quit. Tommy used to sit in on their jam sessions on Sunday afternoon at The Barroom Floor.'
`Is that one of the dives your mother mentioned?'
`It isn't a dive. He didn't take me to dives. It was merely a place where they could get together and play their instruments. He wanted me to hear them play.'
`And Tommy played with them?'
She nodded brightly. `He's a very good pianist, good enough to make his living at it. They even offered him a weekend job.'
`Who did?'
`The combo at The Barroom Floor. His father wouldn't let him take it, naturally.'
`Tell me about the people in the combo.'
`Sam Jackman is the only one I know. He used to be a locker boy at the beach club. He plays the trombone. Then there was a saxophonist and a trumpeter and a drummer. I don't remember their names.'
`What did you think of them?'
`I didn't think they were very good. But Tommy said they were planning to make an album.'
`Every combo is. I mean, what kind of people were they?'
`They were just musicians. Tommy seemed to like them.'
`How much time had he been spending with them?'
`Just Sunday afternoons. He called it his other life.'
`His other life?'
`Uh-huh. You know, at home he had to hit the books and make his parents feel good and all that stuff. The same way I have to do when I'm at home. But it hasn't been working too well since the accident. Nobody feels good.'
