Page 56 of A Winter of Discontent for Henry Milch
“Watch your mouth in front of the baby.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Oh shit!I just remembered more about meeting Bobbie outside Ronnie Sheck’s trailer. She told a story about a man with cancer giving her Oxy. She flirted with him, so he gave her the pills. That man was Brian Belcher’s father. It had to mean something.
But what?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Around ten-thirty I called Opal. It was a choice between calling her and doing the paperwork I’d been asked to do. She was clearly the lesser of two evils.
“Did Denny come back?” I asked when she picked up.
“No. What have you done to find him?”
“Wait. Do you think you hired me?”
“Why would I hire you?”
“Why would I do anything if you haven’t hired me?”
“Because you’re a friend.”
“AmI a friend?”
“You call me for rides like I’m your friend.”
“I have a car.”
“For now.”
I heard a bell in the background and Opal said, “Good morning. Welcome to Pastiche.” She was working. Good. Maybe they’d buy something, and she’d have to hang up.
A moment later, she said to me, “Where were we?”
It took a great deal of self-control not to say ‘You were being a bitch.’ Instead, I said, “Okay, fine, I did talk to someone about how tweakers hook up. You might want to go to Craigslist, backto the last time you knew where Denny was, and check out who was looking for PNP. You could pretend to want to hook up and ask about Denny.”
“I can’t do that. I’m a girl.”
“They won’t know that.”
“They’ll ask for a picture.”
“Take a shirtless picture of Carl and send that.”
She got quiet, and I worried for a moment if I’d sent her into a sexual frenzy just thinking about a sexy photoshoot with Carl. Then she said, “If Denny’s still there with them doing… whatever, then they’re not going to respond.”
That was a good point. Meanwhile, her customer asked, “Is this the only color you have?” I imagined the woman was holding up a blouse or something.
“It is…” Opal said with a mix of regret and loathing. Then back to me, “Could you go talk to Ronnie Scheck for me?”
“Why can’t you go?”
“I’m not a customer of his. He’s not going to talk to me.”
“I’m not a customer of his anymore.”
The ensuing silence was damning and a tiny bit deserved.
