I tapped my pencil. “That’s strange, Booter. I mean, strange that you don’t know him.”
He laughed nervously. “Why? Why do you keep mentioning this fellow?”
“Oh, this brings us back to the dinner party, I believe. And a few other matters. If I were to ask Mr. Monroe if he’s seen you lately, I suppose I’d get a different story. He might be able to name a date and place and time.”
I heard the chair creak. I could picture him, leaning back, stroking his tie.
“If someone named-what did you say his name was?”
“Monroe. Lucas Monroe,” I said.
“Well, if he claims he knows me, or has been to see me, he’s lying, pure and simple.”
“Lying.”
“Yes, the man’s a liar.”
“A liar,” I repeated. “Well, you should know. By the way, Booter, did I ever tell you that I know how you got your nickname?”
“Oh, I suppose you’ve heard I was something of a pugilist in my day,” he said with a laugh.
“Pugilist? You mean boxing? I thought your sport was hurling.”
“Hurling? Why, no! You mean pitching, a baseball player?”
“Not exactly.”
“Oh, maybe you said ‘hurdling.’ I never went out for track and field. I’m slow as molasses.”
“Whatever you say, Booter. Well, if you remember anything about Lucas Monroe, let me know.”
Poor Booter. A man builds a certain kind of reputation, thinks no one will learn his secrets, then one day some stupid little story catches up to him. Suddenly his name is mud-or something worse.
Booter was a strange man. Not as dumb as he acted, but not as smart as he thought he was, either. I didn’t think he knew Lucas was dead, but I couldn’t be sure.
I needed to step back a little. I had been sort of mean to Booter, partly because I didn’t like hearing him call Lucas a liar.
Perhaps I had taken it all wrong. Coming from Booter, calling someone a liar could have been a statement of admiration.
18
DEKE ANDDUNKwere snoozing after a hard run on the beach. I had showered and changed, a chicken was roasting in the oven, and Rachel had set the table. Now she sat at the counter, drinking a glass of white wine, scratching Cody’s ears, as I worked on a batch of biscuits.
“So, tell me about this group you’re in,” Rachel said, obliging Cody when he lifted his chin to be scratched where
“What? Bothering his partner? Frank told Pete that my going to SOS
Her hand stilled. “Uh-oh. Listen, I don’t know that for a fact. Pete borrows trouble, you know?”
I went back to kneading biscuit dough, she went back to spoiling the cat. I decided to set aside my worries about Frank, since there was nothing I could do about them until I had a chance to talk to him.
“SOS is Save Our Shelter, a group that supports the battered women’s shelter,” I said, “but I’m guessing that you’re not asking about that group.”
“No, Pete called it something else.”
“‘Survivors of Selman’?”
“Yeah, that was it.”
“That’s a joke that I regret letting Frank in on. It’s just what brought a few of us together years ago. Even then, calling it that was intended to be a joke. Women who had gone on with their lives after being with Lisa’s dad.”
“You make it sound like a crowd. How many old girlfriends does this guy have?”
“How many? Let’s see. Every now and then, Andre lasted a year with someone. He’s been with his current wife for about five years now. But before that, the man averaged two or three girlfriends and a dozen quick affairs each year for twenty or twenty-five years…”
“No, I don’t think so. Maybe. There are several theories floating around. I don’t care, really.”
I knew she was studying me, but I kept my eyes on the biscuit dough, as if its white sameness inspired fascination. I was hoping she would let this line of questions drop. That went the way of a lot of hopes.
“So you still haven’t told me how the ex-girlfriends managed to meet each other the first time.”
“Lisa-the woman you’ll meet tonight?”
She nodded.
“She asked about five of Andre’s ex-girlfriends to attend her high school graduation. I was one of them. Later, Lisa’s mom invited us back to her house for coffee, while Lisa and her friends went on to a party.”
“You knew these other women were Andre’s ex-girlfriends?”
“No. It was the first time I had met most of them. I knew Marcy, Lisa’s mom, of course. And Sharon, Jerry’s mom-Jerry is Andre’s son. But the others were women I’d never met before. I turned to one of the others and asked, ‘So how do you know Lisa?’ and that was that.”
“Must have been weird.”
“Not really. In fact, it was a relief. Here were some other women who-” I stopped, felt the heat rise in my cheeks.
“What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “Rachel, of all the stupid relationship moves I’ve ever made, getting involved with Andre was the stupidest. In the end, I felt-I don’t know,
“He took money from you?”
“No. I was a student. I didn’t have money.”
“Your virginity?”
I laughed. “No, the precious prize of my virginity was long gone.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“I know you didn’t. Andre took my pride. That’s all. Just my pride.”
Rachel didn’t say anything for a while, just kept scratching Cody. I realized that I was kneading the dough a little too vigorously, and decided to roll it out while it would still make something resembling biscuits.
“Andre always courted and broke up with women in the same way. In fact, he always arranged-with the help of his best friend, Jeff-that you’d walk in on him having sex with another woman. It had happened exactly the same way for all of us.”
“Good God!” Rachel said. “I’m surprised he hasn’t been killed by one of those women-Andre and his friend!”
“As far as I know, I’m the only one who didn’t leave it at shouting obscenities or running away in tears. Some even tried to get back together with him.”
“What did you do?”
I smiled. “I grabbed one of his prized fishing poles and started flailing his naked behind with it.”
She laughed. “Literally whipped his ass, eh? So then what happened to you?”
“I moved to Bakersfield. I worked the police beat for a local paper for a couple of years before the
