“Just wanted to make sure you were all right after last night.”
“I’ve got a hell of a stiff neck. All that bouncing around and shit. Where’d you get your license, anyway? Sears?”
“You were holding a gun on me, remember?”
“Yeah, well…”
“Listen, last night’s over, as far as I’m concerned. You say you can get me into the Lewis house.”
“Sure I can.”
“Well, let’s do it. Today.”
“It’ll have to wait until after Shareen gets off work.”
“That’s fi F Do yer Shne. I’ve got a day shift at the Spot. I can swing by afterward, pick you up. Where’s your crib?”
“Never mind that,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at the bar. You tellin’ me we got a deal?”
“Not so fast. Let’s take this a little bit at a time, okay?”
“Just don’t want to give everything away and get nothing back.”
“I don’t blame you. But let’s see if we can work together first. And LaDuke?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget your tie.”
He didn’t forget it. He was wearing it, a solid blue number on a white shirt, knotted tightly despite the heat, when he walked into the Spot at half past four that afternoon. LaDuke had a seat next to Mel, who had stretched a lunch hour into three and was working on his fifth martini of the day. Anna stood by the service bar, counting the sequence of her checks. She glanced at LaDuke when he entered, then gave him a second look as he settled onto his bar stool.
“Nice place,” LaDuke said. “Really uptown.” He wiped his hands off on a bev nap and left the crumpled napkin on the bar.
“Thanks,” I said. “Get you something?”
“I’ll just have a Coke, please.”
“So you don’t drink, either.”
“Not really, no.”
“Okay, Boy Scout. One Coke, coming up.” I shot a glassful from the soda gun and placed it in front of him. “Want a cherry in it?”
“No. But do you have a place mat I can color on?”
I heard Anna laugh from the service end of the bar. Ramon walked behind her on his way to the kitchen and patted her ass. She slapped his hand away. Mel continued to croon along to the Staple Singers coming from the system, doing a Mavis thing with his pursed-out mouth. Happy sat in the shadows, his hand curled listlessly around a manhattan.
“I’ll be ready to go,” I said, “soon as my replacement shows up.”
“I’ll just sit here and soak up the atmosphere,” said LaDuke.
“Cash in!” Anna yelled.
I went to her and took her tip change, all lined up in neat little rows, and turned it into bills. I handed it over to her and she put her hand into my breast pocket and withdrew a smoke. I lit it for her and she blew the exhale away from my face.
“Who’s the guy?” she said.
“Name’s Jack LaDuke.”
“I like it,” she said.
“The name?”
“The whole package.”
“You go for the puppy-dog type?”
“Not usually,” she said. “But he’s cute as shit, man. What’s he do?”
I winked broadly. “Private dick.”
“Why’s he keeping it private?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”
She did, but it didn’t work out. She started by getting herself a beer and having a seat next to LaDuke and initiating some conversation. LaDuke was polite, but clearly uncomfortable. Anna took his manner for disinterest; she downed her beer quickly and drifted away. Darnell came out of the kitchen and introduced himself, and soon after that Mai arrived in a chipper mood and relieved me of my position behind the stick. I changed into something presentable and told LaDuke that it was time to go.
We headed into Northeast in LaDuke’s Ford. He stared ahead as he drove, his hands tight on the wheel, ten and two o’clock, right out of driver’s ed. I tried to get a station on his radio, but he reached across the bench and switched it off. I wondered, What does this guy do to get off?
“Anna thought you were interesting,” I said.
“You know that little guy? The busboy, the guy with the gold tooth?”
“You mean Ramon?”
“Yeah,” LaDuke said. “Him. Does he like her or something?”
I laughed. “Ramon likes anything that has to sit down to take a piss. But no, they got nothin’ going on.”
“Well, she’s really cute.”
“That’s what she said about you. So why’d you blow her off?”
LaDuke blinked nervously. “I didn’t mean to, exactly. I’m not very good with women, to tell you the truth.”
“I’m not very good with them, either. But when I find one I like and I think she likes me back, I give it a better shot than you did. Anyhow, a pretty motherfucker like you shouldn’t have any problems.”
“I’m not pretty,” he said, a touch of anger entering his voice.
“Relax, man, I’m only kidding around.”
“Look,” he said, “just forget it, okay?”
“Sure.”
We drove for a couple of miles in silence. LaDuke looked out the window.
“Maybe I’ll give her a call,” he said.
Shareen Lewis was sitting on the rocker sofa on her porch when we reached the top of the steps leading to her house. She stood a K. Seight='0emnd took LaDuke’s hand, then briefly shook mine without looking in my eyes. She wore linen shorts and a short-sleeved blouse, with a masklike brooch pinned beneath the collar. As on the day before, the makeup somehow managed to match the clothes. She was a handsome woman, nicely built; she might have been lovely had she simply smiled.
We followed Shareen through the front door and found seats in her comfortably appointed living room. For my benefit, LaDuke repeated to Shareen what they had obviously discussed earlier over the phone: that I would team up with him in trying to locate her son, and that the teaming could only double our chances of finding him. Her eyes told me that she doubted his reasoning, but she nodded shortly in agreement. I asked her for a recent photograph of Roland. Shareen Lewis nodded with the same degree of enthusiasm. I asked her if she had heard from her son either directly or by message and she said, “No.” I asked her if she had any idea at all as to his whereabouts. To that one, she also said, “No.” We sat around and listened to the clock tick away on her mantelpiece. After some of that, I asked to see Roland’s room.
We took the carpeted stairs to the second floor-three small bedrooms and a bath. We passed the largest room, which I guessed to be Shareen’s. Its absolute cleanliness and frilly decor told me that, under this roof at least, Shareen Lewis slept alone. The next room belonged to the teenaged daughter, Roland’s sister, who had blown me off two days earlier on the phone. She was in there, sitting at a desk, listening to music through a set of headphones. She was already heavier than her mother, and she had chunkier features, or it could have been that she was at an awkward age. We made eye contact, and for some reason, I dumbed up my face. She laughed a little and closed her eyes and went back to her groove. Then we were in Roland’s room at the end of the hall.
Shareen pulled the blinds open and let some light into the space. LaDuke leaned against a wall and folded his arms while I took it in: another clean room, too clean, I thought, for a boy his age. Maybe Shareen had tidied it up. But even so, there was something off about it, from the rather feminine color scheme to the schmaltzy souvenir
