Page 37 of Fade Out
“What do you want with me?”
“Just a few questions. Rita was here for around two months?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Was she here the whole time or did she go away for a few days on and off?”
“I don’t know, maybe. I don’t pay that kind of attention to my neighbors.”
“Was she always alone?”
“She had friends. Everyone has friends.”
“Tall guy? Sandy hair, blue eyes, chinless.”
“Yes,” she said, uncomfortable that I knew that. “He was here a lot. I asked Ruby if he was her boyfriend, but she said ‘no.’ She only kept him around because there were people after her.”
“So he was violent?”
“No. I mean, I never saw anything. From what she said I thought he was, you know, protective.”
“And a young woman, roughly Rita’s weight and height?”
She had the decency to go pale. “I saw a woman like that one night. The three of them got out of a cab.”
“Did you hear them use any names?”
She shook her head.
“Did you notice anything about this girl? Anything at all.”
“It was late. Dark. They were dressed like they’d been out dancing.”
“So they might have picked the girl up?”
“I didn’t think so at the time, but yes, I suppose.” She was obviously uncomfortable with three single people having a three-way.
“When was this?”
“It was really hot. I couldn’t sleep, otherwise I wouldn’t have seen them at all. It must have been July. Maybe the beginning of July?”
“And you only saw the girl once?”
“Just that one time, yes.”
“Did you notice her hair color?”
“Light brown, maybe blonde. Dirty blonde. Like she’d used too much Sun In. I didn’t really get a good look.” It sounded like she’d gotten averygood look.
“Can you think of anything else that might prove useful?”
“I don’t—Ruby was kind, she was friendly, she was a good person. I don’t know if I believe any of this.”
“Bad people don’t announce themselves. Don’t beat yourself up because you can’t see it.”
“I, I can’t talk about this anymore. I’m sorry.”
She closed the door in my face. I took the beeper off my belt and looked at it. I recognized my lawyer’s phone number. He was working late on a Friday night, I suppose that was good. I had barely enough time to get to the hospital and see Ross. Visiting hours ended at eight. Feeling like a heel, I decided to go back to Brian’s and call my lawyer.
