“For Girdner Sales.”
“Oh, my God. They’re owned by the Mob.”
“I figured. Either that or the boss, Vito, was hanging around with the cast of
“Will you quit joking?”
“Will you quit flying off the handle? I’m a grown woman.
I’ve taken care of myself for a long time.”
Phil took a deep breath. “OK,” he said. “I’m sorry. Let me take you home and you can tell me what happened.”
Phil drove a beat-up black Jeep, dusty and stripped to the essentials. Helen liked the zippered windows. This was a working vehicle, not some yuppie fantasy. When they were out of the maze of Brideport streets, Phil said, “How did this Laredo woman die?”
“I was working on a vodka survey. I called a man who lived in Brideport. He started to answer my questions, then put down the phone. Next, I heard him arguing with a woman.”
“What about?” Phil said.
“I don’t know,” Helen said. “At first the woman sounded defiant. She said he’d better give her what she wanted. I couldn’t hear what the man said but he seemed angry. She was pressuring him. She called him a liar and yelled other things I didn’t understand. Then she became afraid and screamed, ‘No, Hank!’ “Her scream was cut off and she made this terrible gurgling noise. It was a sound I’ve never heard anywhere else. He strangled her. Then he hung up the phone.”
Helen felt the hot tears rise up. She would not cry in front of Phil. It was weak and useless. She swallowed her tears.
They tasted like bitter medicine, but they did not make her feel better.
“I called 911 and the police went to the house. They didn’t find any sign of a struggle. There was no body, no blood, no strange cars in the driveway. The police searched his house, cars and boat. Nothing.
“The guy claimed I’d heard a movie, and the cops believed him. They acted like I was a nutcase. But that was no movie. I heard that horrible sound and I heard her call his name.”
“His name was Hank? Hank who?”
“Hank Asporth.”
She studied his face. Phil gave no indication that he knew Asporth.
“Hank Asporth sicced his lawyer on me to shut me up.
But I searched the computers at work. A woman named Laredo Manson was supposedly living with Asporth. I called her number and got her sister, Savannah. She said Laredo was missing. The police weren’t looking too hard for her. A woman who worked with Laredo at Gator Bill’s restaurant said she was restless and took off.
“The waitress’s name was Debbie. She was a nasty little tease with long white-blond hair. I mean, it went all the way down to her waist. Must have taken all day to dry. Debbie got a lot of tip money making middle-aged men crazy with that hair and her body.”
I’m babbling, Helen thought. I don’t know this man. I did some pretty dicey stuff with Debbie. It could get me arrested.
She studied Phil’s handsome, offbeat face. Could a man with a crooked nose walk the straight and narrow?
“What’s the matter?” Phil said. “Why did you suddenly stop?”
“I’m trying to decide if I can trust you,” Helen said.
“What if I told you I did something bad? Would you turn me in to the cops?”
“Did you commit a murder?”
“No!” Helen was shocked.
“Do you deal drugs?”
Helen was outraged. “Are you nuts? Would I take abuse as a telemarketer if I could make good money dealing?”
Phil grinned. That was slightly crooked, too. “Then the answer’s no. Besides, Margery would skin me alive if I turned you in.”
He was right. Margery trusted him. She could, too.
“Savannah and I went to Debbie’s apartment. She told us Hank Asporth paid her a thousand dollars to lie about Laredo.”
“She told you, huh? This Debbie sounds hard as nails. She was paid to lie, but she volunteered information out of the blue?”
“Her long hair didn’t work on us. And we were persuasive,” Helen said.
“I bet,” Phil said.
“Do you want to hear this or not? Debbie said Savannah’s sister worked the charity orgies in the back room. Debbie claimed she didn’t know what went on in there, except that it was some group called the Six Feet Unders. She said Kristi would know the details because she worked there, too. Debbie was going to get Kristi’s address for us, so we could ask her some questions. Except somebody killed her first. We found her dead when we went back to her apartment. Debbie was strangled with her own hair.”
“Did you tell the police what you know?”
“We called them from a pay phone so they’d find her body, but we didn’t say anything else. Savannah’d had a little problem with the law.”
“I’m not surprised, being as she’s so persuasive. What about you? Did you call the police?”
“Uh, it wasn’t a good idea for me, either.”
“You’ve got a little problem with the law?” Phil looked amused.
“I’ve got a big problem with an ex-husband.” Also with the court, but Helen didn’t want to get into that. She kept talking, hoping to slide over that sticky subject.
“Anyway, I managed to get into Hank Asporth’s house and search it. He has a fur bedspread, mirrors on the ceiling and penis extenders.”
Phil burst out laughing so hard he had trouble downshifting. The gears ground and the Jeep lurched forward. “So you were working undercover on your own?” he said.
“This isn’t funny. I found a red shoe tossed in the back of a closet that I think belonged to Laredo. That’s proof she was in Hank’s house. I snuck it out.”
“You removed it from the scene?” Phil was serious now.
“It’s useless as evidence.”
“What evidence? Do you think the police will search the Asporth house again on my say-so?”
“May I ask how you got into Hank’s house?” Helen noticed Phil had called him Hank. Did he know Hank Asporth or not?
“I went as the date of a guy named Joey. Drives a red Viper.”
Phil stared at her. “You dated Joey the Model?” A car behind them honked. They’d been sitting at a green light.
“Is that his name? I couldn’t stand the guy. I pretended I was sick and he sent me home in a cab. He was awful.”
“You could say that. Joey the Model has murdered six people that we know about, two of them women he dated. He beat them to death.”
“Oh,” Helen said. “I knew there was something wrong with him. That’s why I was working that awful topless party.
It was the only way I could get Kristi’s address.”
“You are really something,” Phil said. “But what it is, I don’t know.”
When Phil pulled into the Coronado parking lot, Helen jumped out and handed him his coat. “Thank you very much,” she said, leaving him standing there. She ran all the way to her apartment.
What’s the matter with me? she asked herself. Why didn’t I stay and talk with Phil? I’ve told him everything —well, a lot anyway—about me. I have plenty of questions for him.
But I ran like a rabbit. At least I could have let Phil walk me to my door.
But Helen knew the reason: She was afraid he might kiss her good night. She was afraid he might not.
