“Mr. Malone.” Nanette jumped up. “Something wrong with Bibby? I had to leave early Wednesday night because my mother was sick-she still is, that’s why I’m staying home from work-”
“I know, my wife told me,” Malone said.
“Oh! What happened to your head and face?”
“A little accident. Mind if I sit down a minute, Nanette?”
“Mind? I should say not.”
She sat down looking flattered. He took the other chair and made his onceover casual. She was a large girl, larger than Goldie in every department, with the heavy Vorshek features but plainer than Goldie’s, the pug nose, the high bones, the straight brown hair her sister camouflaged. He had seen Nanette at least once a week since her high school days, but he had never absorbed more than an impression of a sort of homely niceness, Bibby worshiped her and she was reliable, which was all he cared about. From what he had heard she rarely went out on a date. The talk among the studs was that she couldn’t be made, her old man and old lady kept her on too short a leash, the YPF type, they said, a hardnose churchgoer, as tough to crack as a nun. But Malone thought he saw a certain something in her hazel eyes.
She’s wondering why I’m here. No sign of being scared or worried like she’d surely show if she was in on this with Goldie and the two hoods. My hunch was right, she probably doesn’t even know her sister is in town.
“My father’s working and my mother’s in bed,” Nanette said with a downward look. For some reason her face was red. “You want to see mom, Mr. Malone?”
“I’m here to see you,” Malone said. “I took a chance you’d be home, knowing Mrs. Vorshek is down sick.” He managed a smile.
“Mrs. Malone know you’re here?” He could barely hear her.
“Yes. Why?”
“Oh, nothing.”
By God, she’s got a thing for me. All these years and I never knew. He had been racking his brains trying to work out an approach, and he had come up the walk still trying. This could be the break.
“Nanette.”
She looked up.
“How long have you known me?”
She giggled. “That’s a funny question, Mr. Malone. You know how long. Years.”
“Have I ever made a pass at you?”
“You? Oh, no!”
“Ever catch me in a lie, or trying to take advantage of you?”
“I should say not.”
“Do you trust me, Nanette?”
“I guess I do. I mean sure.”
“I’m glad. Because I’m going to have to trust you, too. In a very important thing. Something I can’t even tell you about. I need information.”
“From me?”
“From Goldie’s sister.”
She went white. She whispered, “Wait a minute,” and jumped up and ran into the house. When she came back she said, “It’s okay, mom’s sleeping,” and pulled the rocker closer to Malone and sat down on the edge and clasped her big hands on her knees. “She’s in trouble, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Malone said. “But I can’t tell you what trouble, Nanette, or anything about it. All I can do is ask you to help me.
Her lips came together. “You want me to do something against my own sister.”
“The kind of trouble Goldie’s in, Nanette, she can’t get out of. Whatever you do or don’t do, sooner or later she’s going to have to pay for it. Nothing can make it worse for her. But by cooperating you can maybe help Bibby and Mrs. Malone and me.
“Because of Goldie?”
He was silent. Then he said, “Will you help us?”
“I don’t get it.”
“I wish I could tell you, Nanette, I really do. But there are reasons why I can’t. Will you help us?”
She banged back in the rocker and began to rock in little fast rocks, like an angry old lady, lips’ fleshiness thinned, hairy brows drawn tight. Malone waited patiently.
“It’ll hurt Goldie?”
“I told you, it can’t hurt her more than she’s already hurt herself. You’ll just have to take my word for that, Nanette. You’ve got to make up your mind that your sister made the bed she’s lying in. But you can help out people who’ve always treated you right and never did anything against you.”
“She’s in New Bradford, isn’t she?”
“I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything, and I’m not going to. Nanette, look at me.”
She looked at him.
“I’m desperate. I mean it.”
Whatever she saw in his eyes, it made her stop rocking. She looked out over the porch rail at the hills, seeing something he could not. “I guess I always knew Goldie would wind up bad. When I was a little girl I used to look up to her because she was so much prettier and smarter than me and the boys were all ape over her. And because she wasn’t scared of my parents. She’d sass papa back to his face something awful and he’d smack her hard and she’d never even cry, I thought she was so brave… What do you want, Mr. Malone?”
He let out his breath. “When is the last time you saw her?”
“Years ago.”
“You didn’t see her, say, this past summer?”
“This year? No.”
“Does she ever write to you?”
“Once in a while. Not often, but regular, if you know what I mean. From all kinds of places. My father always goes to work before the mailman comes, but I get to the mailbox in the morning before my mother in case there’s a letter from Goldie. Mom would tear it up on the spot if she got there first. My parents are still very Old Country, they never changed. Since Goldie ran away they won’t even let me mention her name. Not that she uses it any more, the Vorshek, I mean. She calls herself Goldie Vanderbilt, I don’t know why.”
Malone heard her out. When she stopped he said casually, “Ever save any of her letters?”
Jesus let this be it.
“Oh, all of them,” Nanette said. “I keep them hid in my old toy chest in the attic that mama hasn’t touched for years.”
“Could I please see her last letter?”
Nanette got up without a word and went into the house. Malone sat on the Vorshek porch looking out at the half-naked willows stooped over the river and the fading hump of hill beyond, seeing nothing but his predicament.
Even if my hunch proves out I’m a long way from home.
One step at a time is how you have to do it.
Then you figure out where you go from there.
Till one o’clock.
At this point Malone’s mind got stuck again.
When Nanette came back she was in a hurry. Her red hands were clasped about an envelope, trying to hide it. Malone had never noticed before that her fingernails were bitten all the way down.
“Mama’s getting restless,” she whispered. “You better go, Mr. Malone, before she wakes up. I don’t want to have to explain what you’re doing here.” She shoved the letter into his hand. “Put it away.”
He put it into his pocket without looking at it.
