which blazed out from below a thick stretch of storm clouds, settling the streets under a canopy of shadow. The storefronts all had verandas and quaint signs extending over the doors. The streets were lit by black witch-hat lamps. After several blocks, the congested streets opened up to a wooded area, and I saw a sign for Kinghorn Prep. A cathedral, steeple, and clock tower peered above the treetops.

I stayed on the sidewalk and rounded the corner onto 32nd Street. The harbor was only a few blocks away, and I caught glimpses of boats passing behind the shops as they came in to dock. Halfway down 32nd Street, I saw a sign for Blind Joe's diner. I pulled my interview questions out and read them over one last time. The plan wasn't to look like I was holding an official interview. I hoped that if I casually broached the subject of Kjirsten with the employees, I could tease out something the handful of reporters before me had somehow missed. Hoping the questions were stored to memory, I underhanded the list into the nearest trash can.

The door chimed when I entered.

The floor was yellow and white tile, and the booths were upholstered in nautical blue. Pictures of the harbor hung on the walls. I sat in a booth close to the door and shrugged out of my coat.

A waitress in a stained white apron appeared beside me. 'Name's Whitney,' she told me in a sour voice. 'Welcome to Blind Joe's. Special today is the tuna fish sandwich. Soup of the day's lobster chowder.' Her pen was poised to take my order.

'Blind Joe's?' I frowned and tapped my chin. 'Why does that name sound so familiar?'

'Don't you read the paper? We were in the news for a week straight last month. Fifteen minutes and all that.'

'Oh!' I said with sudden clarity. 'Now I remember. There was a murder, right? Didn't the girl work here?'

'That would be Kjirsten Halverson.' She clicked her pen impatiently. 'Want me to bring out a bowl of that chowder to start?'

I didn't want lobster chowder. In fact, I wasn't remotely hungry. 'That must have been hard. Were the two of you friends?'

'Hell, no. You going to order or what? I'll let you in on a little secret. I don't work, I don't get paid. I don't get paid, I don't make rent.'

Suddenly I wished the waiter across the room were taking my order. He was short, bald back to his ears, and his body type mimicked the toothpicks in the dispenser at the end of the table. His eyes never reached higher than three feet off the ground. As pathetic as I would have felt after the fact, one friendly smile from me might have been enough to have him spilling Kjirsten's entire life story. 'Sorry,' I told Whitney. 'I just can't stop thinking about the murder. Of course, it's probably old news to you. You must have had reporters in here all the time asking questions.'

She gave me a pointed look. 'Need a few more minutes to look over the menu?'

'Personally, I find reporters irritating.'

She leaned in, bracing a hand on the tabletop. 'I find customers who take their own sweet time irritating.'

I blew out a silent sigh and flipped open the menu. 'What do you recommend?'

'It's all good. Ask my boyfriend.' She gave a tight smile. 'He's the cook.'

'Speaking of boyfriends… did Kjirsten have one?' Nice segae, I told myself.

'Spill,' Whitney demanded. 'You a cop? A lawyer? A reporter?'

'Just a concerned citizen.' It sounded like a question.

'Yeah, right. Tell you what. Order a milkshake, fries, the Angus burger, a bowl of chowder, and give me a twenty-five-percent tip, and I'll tell you what I told everybody else.'

I weighed my options: my allowance or answers. 'Done.'

'Kjirsten hooked up with that kid, Elliot Saunders. The one in the papers. He was in here all the time. Walked her back to her apartment at the end of her shift.'

'Did you ever talk to Elliot?'

'Not me.'

'Do you think Kjirsten committed suicide?'

'How should I know?'

'I read in the newspaper that a suicide note was found in Kjirsten's apartment, but that there was also evidence of a break-in.'

'And?'

'You don't find that a little… odd?'

'If you're asking if I think Elliot could have put the note in her apartment, sure I do. Rich kid like that could get away with anything. Probably hired somebody to plant the note. That's how it works when you got money.'

'I don't think Elliot has a lot of money.' My impression had always been that Jules was the wealthy one. Vee never stopped raving about his house. 'I think he went to Kinghorn Prep on scholarship.'

'Scholarship?' she repeated on a snort. 'What's in the water you been drinking? If Elliot don't got big-time money, how'd he buy Kjirsten her apartment? Tell me that.'

I struggled to hold my surprise in check. 'He bought her an apartment?'

'Kjirsten never shut up about it. About drove me insane.'

'Why would he buy her an apartment?'

Whitney stared down at me, hands on hips. 'Tell me you ain't really that dumb.'

Oh. Privacy. Intimacy. Got it.

I said, 'Do you know why Elliot transferred out of Kinghorn?'

'Didn't know he did.'

I juggled her answers with the questions I still wanted to ask, trying to summon them up from memory. 'Did he ever meet friends here? Anyone other than Kjirsten?'

'How'm I supposed to remember that?' She gave a hard eye roll. 'I look like I got one of them photographic memories?'

'How about a really tall guy? Really tall. Long blond hair, good-looking, tailored clothes.'

She ripped a ragged fingernail off with her front teeth and dropped it inside the pocket of her apron. 'Yeah, I remember that guy. Hard not to. All moody and quiet. He came in once or twice. Wasn't that long ago. Maybe around the time Kjirsten died. I remember 'cause we were serving corned beef sandwiches for St. Patrick's Day and I couldn't get him to order one. Just glared at me like he would have reached across the table and slit my throat if I'd stuck around reading the daily specials any longer. But I think I remember something. It's not like I'm nosy, but I do got ears. Sometimes I can't help hearing things. Last time the tall guy and Elliot came in, they were hunched over a table, talking about a test.'

'A test at school?'

'How should I know? From the sound of it, the tall guy failed a test, and Elliot was none too happy about it. He shoved his chair back and stormed out. Didn't even eat all his sandwich.'

'Did they mention Kjirsten?'

'The tall guy came in first, asked if Kjirsten was working. I told him no, she wasn't, and he got on his cell phone. Ten minutes later, Elliot strolls in. Kjirsten always handled Elliot's table, but like I said, she wasn't working, so I got it. If they talked about Kjirsten, I didn't hear. But it looked to me like the tall guy didn't want Kjirsten around.'

'Do you remember anything else?'

'Depends. You going to order dessert?'

'I guess I'll have a slice of pie.'

'Pie? I give you five minutes of my valuable time, and all you order is pie? I look like I got nothing better to do than chitchat with you?'

I glanced around the diner. It was dead. Other than a man hunched over a paper at the counter, I was the only customer.

'Okay…' I scanned the menu.

'You're going to want a raspberry lemonade to wash that pie down.' She scribbled it on her pad. 'And after- dinner coffee.' More scribbling. 'I'll be looking forward to an additional twenty-percent tip with that.' She pinned me

Вы читаете Hush Hush
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату