you would. He always has to tell you how bad he's going to fuck you up. That's why my mom ran away. You know,' she said, fast, as though to prevent me from speaking, 'you're some dumb detective. You never even asked me what I'm doing here.'
'You want something,' I said.
'Well, duh! If you're so smart, what do I want?'
'I don't know. But I want something too: I want Jimmy's truck, and I want the things that were stolen from Eve Colgate's storeroom.'
Her eyes widened quickly; then she laughed. 'You used that one already, saying something to confuse me. Are you supposed to be a good detective?'
'Probably not. But I get the feeling you're not such a good kid, either.'
She snorted. 'Different meanings of 'good,' Mr. Bigshot. Don't do that shit with me. I'm in Honors English.'
'Not anymore this semester, from what I hear.'
'That was bullshit!' She glanced at me sharply.
'That's what your father told me, too. Not his innocent little princess.'
'He's an asshole,' she couldn't help saying. 'But anyway, now I can go somewhere else next year. Maybe Europe or something. I hated that dump anyway.'
'If I tell Sheriff Brinkman you've been fencing stolen property, you might not be going anywhere.'
'Who, Robocop?' She was scornful, unimpressed with my threat. 'You think my dad would let him anywhere near me? Besides'—she leaned back against my car, blew a stream of smoke into the sky—'I don't know what the fuck you're talking about.'
'I don't believe you.'
She eyed me thoughtfully. With a well-bred, ladylike smile, she inquired, 'Who fucking cares? Anyway, forget that crazy lady and her shit. I thought you wanted to know who killed Wally.'
I dropped my cigarette to the ground, crushed it. 'Do you know?'
She shrugged. 'Everyone says it was Jimmy.'
'Was it?'
'How the hell am I supposed to know? But Jimmy's in deep shit, huh? Do you know where he is?'
'That's what you were looking for me for? You want to know where Jimmy is?'
'Hey, you figured it out! You
'Why do you want him?'
Her voice became coy. 'I can help him.' She waved her cigarette casually in the darkness. 'You're not the only one who knows smart lawyers and shit like that. I can help Jimmy more than you can. Only I bet you don't even know where he is.'
'Why would you want to help him? You walked out on him.'
'He told you that?' she asked slyly.
'Everyone knows,' I countered.
She shrugged again, temporarily out of dumb detective tricks. 'So what? I can still want to help him.'
'Then tell me who has the truck.'
'Okay,' she said teasingly, 'if you tell me where he is.'
'Did you use the truck when you robbed Eve Colgate?'
As I spoke, a car cut around the curve of 30, swept us with headlights as it pulled into the lot. Ginny Sanderson stepped into the shadows again. When Antonelli's door had shut behind the driver and the night was ours again, she threw her cigarette away, still burning, like the one before it. 'Oh, fuck this shit,' she said. 'I'm getting the fuck out of here. This is a drag.'
She brushed past me to her car, pulled open the door, slid behind the wheel. As the engine roared to life and the loud bass thump of the stereo began to pound, she lowered the black-glass window.
'If you want to know where the fucking truck is, just tell anyone at the Creekside you want to see me.'
She reversed hard, close to me, then tore onto the road. Her red tail lights whipped around the curve much too fast, and were gone.
The drive to Eve Colgate's wasn't long. The bare branches of the trees were being tossed violently now, and dead leaves scraped across the road in front of me. I drove carefully, my mind on other things.
Leo came charging to the doorbell, barking loudly. I heard Eve reassuring him as she shot the bolt and drew the door open.
She smiled, stood aside to let me pass. I walked through out of the cold wind into the warm, neat room, where the odor of damp earth was replaced by a rich confusion of herbs, garlic, tomatoes, meat. Steam fogged the windows. The table was set with woven mats, wineglasses, white china. There was music, not Schubert anymore, but Chopin, a nocturne I used to play. Hearing it now, I couldn't remember why I'd stopped.
Leo followed me, wagging, looking up; I reached down to pet him and he sniffed my hand expectantly. 'Oh,' I said. 'Sorry, old buddy. Nothing for you.'
'It's just as well,' Eve said. 'You were spoiling him.' She took my jacket, hung it in the vestibule next to the yellow slicker. I shrugged off my shoulder holster, slipped it over another hook.
