Down in the Zero

'Killed herself? Sure. She was only back from the hospital a couple of weeks. Crystal Cove. Another of these joints that charges an arm and a leg. To hear them tell it, we pay enough money, we'd get a brand–new kid.'

'How was she when she came back?'

'The same. To be honest with you, I got pretty sick of it. My husband, he gives me my space. But not little Miss I'm–So–Depressed, not her. The shrink at the hospital told me the suicide crap was a cry for help. I never put up with it. I called her bluff all the time. Told her, you want to kill yourself, it can't be that hard.'

'How did she react to that?'

'With a lot of babble. Like I said, I wasn't surprised. Only thing that surprised me was the way she did it.'

'How did she do it?'

'She drowned. You know where Chalmer's Creek is?'

'No.'

'It's maybe ten miles from here. It's not really a creek, more like a lake. But they call it a creek. They found her floating in it. The police said her lungs were full of water, so it was a drowning, I guess. But she didn't leave a note. That would have been the one thing I'd've expected from her— she always loved attention.'

'The police tell you why they didn't think it was an accident?'

'They did think it was, at first. But when I told them all about her other attempts, they changed it.'

'You've been very helpful, Mrs. Robinelle.'

'Marlene.'

'Marlene,' I agreed. 'Just one more question, if you don't mind. This friend of hers, the one she wrote poetry with…do you remember her name?'

'Wendy. Wendy something. She was only here a few times— I never really spoke to her.'

'Would you have any of the poems?'

'No. The police took all that. They wouldn't even let me have her room cleaned until they were finished, can you imagine?'

'Yeah,' I said, standing up to leave.

She got up too, standing very close to me. I could smell her overripe perfume, sweat running through baby powder. 'If you need more information, you know where to find me.'

'I appreciate that.'

'My husband won't be back for a couple of weeks. It gets pretty tiresome, even with all this,' she said softly, sweeping her hand to show me the water view through the picture window.

'I'm sure I'll have more questions.'

'Then you come back. Call me first. But don't bring that nosy bitch with you.'

I raised my eyebrows in a question.

'I like the way you handled her. I like a man who can take charge.'

'She's paying the bills,' I said.

'I can pay some bills too.'

Fancy was sitting in the lush, paneled library, her face in an art book.

'Come on,' I said to her.

She got up meekly and followed me. Marlene Robinelle didn't see us to the door.

'What did you find out?' Fancy asked me from the front seat of the Lexus.

'You first,' I said.

'What do you mean?'

'Don't play games, bitch. I know you used that time to stick that perfect little nose of yours places.'

'Do you really think my nose is perfect?' she smiled.

'Yeah. Cute as a button. Now what did you— ?'

'I never left the library. I was afraid you'd come back and catch me. I didn't know how long you'd be.'

'And…?'

'She's a big phony. I found a list in a drawer. The last four, five weeks of the New York Times best–seller list, okay? And on the shelves, every single one of those books. Brand–new, never opened. You can tell, the spines were too tight. And inside each one, she had a photocopy of the review from the Times, see?'

'No.'

'She doesn't read the books, just the reviews. So she can be with it at cocktail parties, see? What a tame cow she must be.'