Leather Maiden

31

I went into Timpson’s office and asked if Belinda could be my assistant, a reporter in training. Timpson put both hands on her desk and leaned forward and gave me a severe look. She stayed that way for so long I thought for a moment she had died.

“She’s gonna flop for you,” Timpson said, “tell her to do that on her own time, will you?”

I tried to look somewhere between shocked and mildly surprised at her comment, but I’m certain the best expression I managed was somewhere between being caught with my pants down and extreme constipation. When I spoke, all I could come up with was, “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“You’re riding in her saddle, aren’t you?”

I tried to look shocked. “Where did you get such an idea?”

“All the people who know me, who have seen you two around town together, they told me. And they’ve seen your car parked over at her house late at night. I suppose you could be helping her lay carpet, but my guess is you’re laying something else.”

I studied the old bat for a moment. “You’re a little too smart and connected for your own good,” I said. “But okay. That’s on our own time. Always has been.” That was partly a lie, but it was close enough. “I like her. She likes me, but it won’t affect our work.”

“Relationships never affected mine.”

I almost said I could believe that, but held back.

“It’s not a problem,” I said.

“Not for me it isn’t. Do your job, and like I told you before, I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t cause the paper trouble. Same for Brenda.”

“Belinda.”

She and the chief needed to get together. They could rename the town population. Might as well, they were going to call people by whatever name they wanted anyway. Considering one was a policeman, the other an editor, you had to wonder why they couldn’t remember names correctly.

“Very well, then,” Timpson said. “Get on it, and take her with you. Besides, I’ve been thinking of moving her to reporter anyway.”

“That’s great,” I said.

“Got to see how she performs while she works with you. That will make my determination. When I refer to performance, I’m talking about the reporter part.”

I ignored that little jab, said, “She deserves the reporter job.”

“Not really, but I’m thinking Oswald might quit, and that way I got a replacement. He seems kind of pissy around me lately.”

I was thinking it might be all her nifty references to the colored, but I decided not to mention it.

First thing I did was go home and get the DVDs out of their hiding place; spent the morning going through them until I found Ronnie on disc with Caroline. They were a beautiful pair, and the way they went at it, it was like watching some very smooth porno film directed by a woman instead of a man. It was slow and sensuous, and I found myself getting aroused. I felt guilty about that, knowing there was a good chance Caroline was dead. I focused on that possibility, and became more clinical. I took in every aspect of Ronnie’s face offered to me. She was almost as beautiful as Caroline. In fact, they looked somewhat alike, except Ronnie was dark-haired and Caroline was blond. There was also something about Ronnie that was different. She didn’t quite have the unearthly beauty that Caroline had, but the way she moved, and smiled, she seemed warmer, sexier, more real.

I remembered what Belinda had said about Caroline borrowing personality and charm from her memory banks, and it occurred to me when you got past that incredible beauty of hers, the sexuality that was there because of her looks, there was in fact something missing. She moved her mouth in a passionate manner, but her eyes were as flat and uninteresting as the backside of a cardboard cutout.

I turned the DVD off. I had Ronnie’s image in my mind. I knew who I was looking for. I put Ronnie’s DVD with the others, packed up the ones I had looked through to find hers, took the one of Jimmy from between my books and put it with the others, then placed the box back in the closet hideaway.

I checked the notes I had on Ronnie, information that was in the stuff Mercury gave me. There was an address. I picked up Belinda and we drove over there. It was a duplex and Ronnie’s address was on the top floor. I walked up and knocked. A woman answered. She wasn’t Ronnie Fisher. She was good-looking, older than Ronnie would have been, said her name was Sharon Duran. I asked about Ronnie and she shook her head. Never heard of her.

I asked the name of her landlord, and got his number and called him. I asked him about Ronnie. His name was Leon Cripson, and when he talked, he sounded distracted, like he might be watching TV on mute, or perhaps checking his pubic hair for lice.

“Yeah, cute gal,” the landlord said, “moved out a while back.”

“How many months ago?” I said. I was sitting in the car with Belinda at the wheel. We were parked out front of Ronnie’s former duplex.

“Hell, I don’t know. You sure you’re a reporter?”

I gave him my name and told him who my boss was. I could almost hear him considering things over the line. “Must have been, oh, seven, eight months ago,” he said.

“Mr. Cripson, did you know Ronnie knew the girl who disappeared?”

“What?”

I gave him a brief explanation.

“Oh, yeah. I remember that. I remember because Ronnie was in the paper, saying something about it.”

“About some fines the missing girl owed.”

“That was it. I remember because the girl, what was her name again?”

I told him.

“Yeah, she was so pretty, and I thought Ronnie was pretty too. I remember thinking it wasn’t surprising they knew one another. Them good-lookers run in packs.”

“Did you ever see Caroline with Ronnie?”

“No. I don’t think so. I’d remember if I did, if that newspaper picture did her any credit.”

“Did Ronnie leave your duplex around the time that the girl went missing? Could it have been then?”

There was a brief pause. “She did. She went owing me some rent. I don’t know exactly when she got out of Dodge, but it was around then. All I know is she didn’t pay me and didn’t pay me and didn’t pay me, and I went over and finally had to open the door and put all her stuff in storage. I called her cell number over and over, but nothing. I called up the college. They said she dropped out and went home.”

“And left all her stuff?”

“Don’t know she left it all, could have taken some things with her, but she left a lot of it behind.”

“Do you remember where Ronnie’s home was, the place she went back to?”

“No. I don’t.”

“So you have her stuff stored?”

“It’s in a storage stall. I should have already gotten rid of it, and I’m going to, soon as I can get around to it. Have Goodwill come cart it off after I sell what I can sell. It’s costing me more to store it than it’s worth.”

“Is there any way we could come look through it? We think she might know something about the missing girl, and there could be something that connects her to Caroline.”

“Really?” he said.

“It’s a thought,” I said.

“You mean it might help with a murder investigation?”

“It’s possible. Can we come look?”

“I guess so. But it has to be on these terms. You empty out the storage building. That’s the deal.”

“I can’t afford to buy her stuff.”

“Hell with that. I’ve decided to get rid of it all. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said.