Page 6 of A Winter of Discontent for Henry Milch
“Yeah, lemme get your flight. Then we’ll talk.”
She took a few steps away from us. Opal gave me the side-eye and said “Smooth,” under her breath.
“Shut up.”
When Melanie came back, she had this kind of carved wooden carrier which held three glasses partly filled with white wine. She set the contraption in front of me. Moving left to right, she said, “Chardonnay, Pinot Gris, and Late Harvest Reisling.”
“Thank you. So, I’ve read your statement. I thought I’d go over a couple of things.”
“If it will help, sure.”
“Before she came in that afternoon, did you know Roberta?”
“Yes and no. I’ve seen her around, but I don’t think we ever really met. I think the LaCross family is up in Leelanau County.”
That was the county above us. The Pinky, as some people say. I didn’t know much about it. I’d barely figured out Wyandot County.
“So, you were aware of her but not acquainted.”
“I guess. Most of the people I know that age are in my family.”
“What did you think of her? When she came in? First impression?”
“She was trying to look a lot younger than she is. Her hair was dyed, like a carrot color. And not in a punk way. More in an ‘ooops, that didn’t work out’ way.”
Opal chose that moment to take off her hat and fluff out her short hair. It was bright, a bright carrot color. Melanie looked over, saw her mistake, and covered by saying, “Yeah, but yours is deliberate. And believe it or not, looks more natural.”
Natural was not what Opal had been going for. She said, “You said she was old. If her hair is white underneath, a color like redcan fade quickly. And if she did it herself, she might not have prepped it correctly.”
Melanie said, “It wasn’t just her hair, it was the way she dressed. She had on this blue jean miniskirt. Like it was the nineteen sixties! And I swear she was wearing a push-up bra. Showed a lot of cleavage. Wrinkly cleavage.”
“She claims she was overserved. Do you have her check?”
“Her friend paid. In cash. Which means we really have no idea at this point. I usually notice if people drink a lot, and I don’t think she did.”
“She was with two friends. Do you remember what time they got here?”
“It was early. We open at noon; she and her friends were here by one.”
“What time did she fall?”
“Three-ish, I think. We called an ambulance, so about ten minutes before they arrived.”
“That means she had two hours to be overserved.”
“Yeah, see… in order to get drunk in that amount of time they’d have had to have ordered bottles. At least two.” Melanie had clearly thought about this. “I’m sure they were drinking flights and single glasses.”
I reached into my pocket and took out the slip of paper I’d written names on. She was right. Her name was Melanie. I asked, “What about Kylie Stark and Penny Pellitier? Are they here?”
“No. They don’t even work here anymore. Penny bought the bookstore in Masons Bay and I think Kylie is working at the Walmart in Traverse City.”
I had their contact information in the file, so I didn’t need to ask. “They both interacted with Ms. LaCross?”
“They were here, but I was the one who served her party.”
I took a sip of the Chardonnay while I tried to think of other questions to ask. The wine wasn’t bad. Not that I’m a connoisseur.
“Wait, I thought some guy bought the bookstore?” I vaguely remembered my mother talking to him at a party. Not that it had anything to do with this.
