him.
Roger can be rude, I’m afraid. He doesn’t mean it—he’s just protecting me. Roger said your product was overpriced junk.
But I’ve been thinking about what that young man said. Two hundred ninety-nine dollars seems a good price for a seven-year supply. I’d like to buy it.”
“Your son is right, Mrs. Carter,” Helen said. “Tank Titan is outrageously overpriced. Save your money.”
“Well! You’re an honest young woman.”
“I just started this week,” Helen said.
Loud cheers drowned out Mrs. Carter’s reply.
“Helen, you be missing it,” Taniqua said. “The police got that tight-ass Penelope in handcuffs. I’d give all my money to see that bitch in jail. Vito and the New York guy be with them.”
As the boiler-room bosses were led away, Taniqua stood up and applauded. She was joined by the other inmates. Even the bikers, Bob and Panhead Pete, crawled out from under their desks. All sixty telemarketers gave the Feds a standing ovation. They didn’t seem to care that their jobs were gone.
Then a half-full drink cup went flying through the air and splattered on Penelope’s beige-suited back. Suddenly, all the trash in the room was pelting the three bosses. Helen found herself throwing a handful of left- behind lettuce. It made a greasy splash on Mr. Cavarelli’s elegant suit.
If they’d cleaned the boiler room, this wouldn’t be happening, she thought, and hurled a stale cheese slice like a Frisbee. It stuck to Penelope’s back like a starfish.
The telemarketers threw with furious precision. No trash touched the agents. The agents were stone-faced, but Helen thought she caught an occasional lip flick that might have been a suppressed smile as they hustled the three forward.
When the boiler-room doors closed on the bosses, the trash-pelting stopped.
A swarm of agents started carrying out boxes of files.
There was an electric
“The phones stopped,” Taniqua said.
“Tank Titan just hung it up,” Helen said. “I’m out of work. And you know what? I’ve never been happier.”
Epilogue
It was over. But it wasn’t a happy ending.
Helen walked home from the busted boiler room feeling oddly empty. A wild vengeance had surged through her as she’d pelted her bosses with trash, but its hot satisfaction did not last.
She knew Hank Asporth was in jail, charged with everything from boating under the influence to money laundering—everything but Laredo’s death.
Laredo. She was the problem. Helen had never met the woman, but she’d heard her die. Now Laredo seemed more alive than ever, standing in front of Helen in her mock pinup pose. Helen could see her long blond hair, short- shorts and saucy red shoes. Laredo laughed at Helen, taunting her. And she haunted her.
Helen didn’t believe in ghosts. But she did believe in guilt.
Helen felt bad about Laredo. Yes, she was a blackmailer, and that was wrong. But Helen understood why Laredo did it. She’d worked those awful jobs, too. They killed your soul for six dollars an hour. Laredo was murdered trying to escape her hopeless past and dreary future. Helen knew she’d died in Asporth’s house. So why wouldn’t Laredo go away?
“I’m not going to live with you,” Helen said to her.
A woman loaded with shopping bags stared at Helen, then hurried past her. Helen realized she’d been talking out loud on Las Olas Boulevard—without a cell phone.
I’ll call Savannah, Helen thought. Maybe if I give her the news about Hank’s arrest, she’ll feel better. Maybe that will get Laredo out of my head.
She found a pay phone and got Savannah on the first ring.
“I can take a break,” Savannah said. “Meet you in ten by the cafe. But I don’t feel like eating. Let’s go for a walk.”
Savannah was easy to spot in the crowd. She was wearing one of her fussy frilled dresses. This one was a bright cerise that drained the color from her face. She had grown scrawnier since the last time Helen had seen her. Savannah was hungry for justice.
“So Hank’s in jail?” she said.
“Right,” Helen said.
“But not for my little sister’s death. He’s dropped her somewhere like a sack of trash. She’ll never be found unless he talks.”
“He won’t talk,” Helen said. “He’d incriminate himself.”
The situation was hopeless, and they both knew it. They walked wordlessly for awhile down Las Olas, but neither one liked the crowds. They turned off on a side street and found a canal. It was a peaceful scene: low- hanging trees, bright flowers and a mother duck paddling in the water with her babies.
Helen knew the fluffy little creatures would grow up to be ungainly Muscovy ducks with black feathers and ugly red wattles.
“I wish I could find Laredo,” Savannah said. “What do you think Hank did with her? How could he hide a whole car?”
“I don’t know,” Helen said. They’d had this conversation a hundred times. They’d probably have it a hundred more.
They watched two boys, about ten years old, fishing from the canal bridge. Their musical accents marked them as natives of the Caribbean.
“I’ve caught a whale,” one kid said. Small and wiry, he was reeling frantically. His fishing pole was bent almost double. Whatever he caught, it had to be huge. Then Helen heard his friend laughing. The young fisherman pulled out a Michelin tire.
“Keep fishing, and maybe you’ll catch the whole car,” his friend jeered.
That’s when something clicked for Helen. “Laredo’s car is in the water,” she said. “That’s deep water behind Hank Asporth’s house. I bet anything he put the body inside the car and dumped it in the canal.”
“And how will you prove that?”
“Let’s go look at Hank’s house,” Helen said. “I think I can show you.”
They rode over in Savannah’s rattletrap Tank and parked in the empty driveway. Hank Asporth’s house had a neglected look. Newspapers were piled on the porch, the lawn needed mowing and plastic bags had blown into the ornamental plants.
“Anybody watching us?” Helen said.
“Don’t think so. There are no cars at the next-door neighbor’s and the old man on the other side has his TV blaring.”
“Good,” Helen said. “Let’s go around to the backyard.”
There was no fence. They slipped around a bird-of-paradise bush. Helen had never seen the spiky orange blooms outside a florist’s bouquet. The backyard was expensive waterfront real estate. The lawn near the house was covered with pink paving blocks. When they ended, there was grass to the water’s edge.
“There’s your proof,” Helen said. “I should have seen this before. It was right there all the time. That grass is going to trip up Hank Asporth.”
“Why?” Savannah said.
“That’s new sod. Look.” Helen pointed to a broad swath of lighter grass running through the yard. “It’s covering the tire tracks through the yard to the water’s edge.”
“I see it,” Savannah said. “But how will we get the police to see it? They think you’re a nut and I’m a nuisance.”
“I know someone who’ll get their attention,” Helen said.
Helen waited the rest of the day for Phil to come back to the Coronado, but he remained invisible. She didn’t
