Down in the Zero

'I gotta make some phone calls,' I told him, starting for the steps.

He didn't answer, lost in the engine bay, muttering something to himself.

I

slid a cassette into the stereo, adjusted the volume down low, let the music flow over me as I did a final run–through, trying to match the addresses I had with the street map I'd bought in the city— I didn't want to have to bring the kid with me when I went calling on the dead girl's parents, but I didn't want to drive around their neighborhood and call attention to myself either.

Seven kids by now.

I needed a cover story too. I'd have to ask the kid if his mother's name was known around there.

The door opened. Fancy. In her white tennis outfit. She walked over to the couch, sat down, crossing her legs, displaying a round thigh all the way up to her hip.

'I see you have Randy working,' she said. 'I asked him if he wanted to play, but he said he was doing something with you.'

'Maybe some other time,' I told her.

'He used to be such a nice boy.'

'You mean he used to do what you told him?'

'Yes. That makes a nice boy. A nice man too.'

'You already figured out that I don't qualify, right? So what can I do for you?'

'You didn't…' she started to say, just as Randy walked in.

'Burke, where's the battery? I could see the lines, but they just go back. Is it under the back seat?'

'In the trunk,' I told him. 'Next to the fuel cell.'

'You got one of those too? Listen, I got this dynamite idea, okay? Now don't say no before I— '

'We were

talking

,' Fancy told him, throwing a hard look his way.

'

You

were talking,' I told her.

The kid chuckled. Two bright red dots popped out on her cheeks, dark under the tan. 'Yes, master,' she purred, her voice thick with sarcasm.

I lit a smoke. The kid shifted his feet awkwardly.

'What's that song?' Fancy asked, cocking her head toward the stereo.

'Judy Henske, right?' the kid piped up. He was on the money. Her fire–throated version of Champion Jack Dupree's ground–zero blues, 'My Real Combination for Love.' I held up an open palm. The kid slapped it in acknowledgment, a delighted grin on his face.

'You're quite the expert,' Fancy said.

The kid ignored her. 'Burke, what I was gonna ask you— '

I shook my head. He got it, dropped whatever he wanted. Fancy got it too. 'I need to talk to your 'caretaker' for a minute, Randy. How about if you go back downstairs, play with your cars?'

I nodded an okay at the kid. He took off without another word.

'What?' I asked her. 'I don't play tennis.'

'You don't play much of anything, do you?'

'No.'

She stood up quickly. 'I could

help

you,' she said softly, turning her back to me, leaning her elbows on the top of the couch. 'You don't want some of this,' she purred, flipping up the short white skirt to flash a pair of red panties. 'You'll want some of that.' She turned around, facing me, hands on hips. 'I know this place. Randy doesn't. You have questions, a man like you. Come over tonight. To my place. And I'll answer them.'

I held her eyes, watching for the game.

'What time?' I asked her.

She told me midnight, gave me the address.

I

stood next to the kid, watching Fancy's sleek black car whip out of the driveway.

'That's a costly ride,' I said. 'What's she do for a living?'

'Do? Nothing, I don't think. I told you— she just plays around with her plants and all. Her folks were rich, probably left her a bundle,' he shrugged. Like it was an everyday thing.

'Okay,' I told him. 'Here's what I need you to do. I'm going to pay a call on that girl's parents. The Blankenships. Maybe they know something, maybe they don't— it's worth a quick look. I'm going to take the Lexus. I want you to lead the way, in the other car, see? Once I go in, you take off. Head back here…the guy may call to check on me. What I'm gonna tell him, I'm working for your mother, okay? She hired me to look into the suicides 'cause she has a kid of her own that knew them, see? They call, that's the story you tell. When I come out, I'll call