Angels Fall

give her your number?"
    "Wait." Her eyes rounded as she stared at Brody. "Is she there now? The new girl?"
    "Not at the moment. She's not starting until Monday. But I have her information. You want it?"
    "Yes. Wait!" She dug into her purse for a pad, a pen. "Okay."
    "Marlie Matthews," Serge began.
    She wrote it down, name, address, phone number, while the canoe drifted lazily on the lake. "Thank you, Serge, thanks so much. As soon as I can possibly manage it, Linda-gail and I are coming in for the works."
    "Looking forward to it."
    She clicked the phone closed. "Someone recognized the sketch."
    "I got that much. Better get your paddle. We'll have to secure the boat before we go to Jackson Hole."

Chapter 28

    MARLIE MATTHEWS lived on the ground floor of a two-level wood box of turüished apartments off Highway 89. There'd been an attempt to give it a bit of style, with take stucco walls forming a little cement courtyard gated with wrought iron. Inside it, there were a few faded mesh chairs, a couple metal tables that still had the white gleam of fresh paint. It looked clean and, though the tiny parking lot was still pocked with potholes from the winter, decently maintained.
    In the courtyard, a towheaded boy of about tour was riding a red tricycle in wide, determined circles. Through an open window on the second floor came a baby's long, furious wails. The minute they started across the courtyard, a woman stepped through the sliding glass doors of a lower unit. "Help you?"
    She was small, wiry, with a short, sleek cap of dark hair liberally streaked with bronze. She gripped a rag mop, eyeing them as though she was prepared to beat them off with it if she didn't like their response. 
    "I hope so." Because she knew what it was like to be wary of strangers, Reece tried an easy, open snnle. "We're looking for Marlie Matthews."
    The woman signaled to the little boy. All it took was a crook of her finger to have him aiming his little bike in her direction. "What for?"
    "She may know someone we're looking for. Serge from the Hair Corral called me. I'm Reece. Reece Gilmore. This is Brody."
    Apparently the mention of her new boss was password enough. "Oh, well. I'm Marlie." Upstairs, the baby stopped crying, and someone began to sing in crooning Spanish. "My neighbor just had a baby," Marlie added when Reece automatically glanced up toward the singing. "I guess you can come in for a minute. Rory, you stay where I can see you."
    "Mom, can I have a juice box? Can I?"
    "Sure, you go get one. But if you go back outside, you stay right where I can see you." The boy dashed inside, with the adults following. He went directly to the refrigerator in the kitchen, sectioned off from the living room by a counter. "You all want something?" Marlie asked. "A cold drink maybe?"
    "Thanks. We're fine."
    The place was whistle clean and smelled of the lemony cleaner in Marlie's mop pail. Though it was on the sparse side with its two-seater sofa and single chair, there had been attempts to make it homey with a red glass vase of yellow fabric daisies on the counter, a potted peace plant on a table situated so it could bask in some light through the sliders.
    A corner of the living room had been fashioned into a play area with a little white table and red chair. On the wall, a corkboard was covered with a child's drawings; on the floor, a clear plastic tub held toys. Obviously more interested in the strangers than his trike, Rory carried his juice box up to Brody.
    "I have a race car and a fire engine." he announced.
    "Is that so? Which is faster?"
    With a grin, Rory went to retrieve them.
    "You can go ahead and sit down," Marlie told them.
    "Mind if I sit over here?" Brody wandered over to the toy box, sat on the floor with the boy. Together, in male unity, they investigated the contents.
    "I left a sketch at the salon a few weeks ago." Reece began while Marlie kept an eye on her son. "Serge said you thought you might have recognized her."
    "Mavbe. I can't say for certain sure. It's just that when I saw the drawing sitting on the counter. I  thought—guess I said… 'What's Deena's picture doing in here?'"
    "Deena? "
    "Deena Black."
    "A friend of yours?" Brody said it casually while he ran the tire truck along the floor with Rory's race car.
    "Not exactly. She used to live upstairs where Lupe does now. The new baby?"
    "Used to?" Brody repeated.
    "Yeah, she left. A month or so ago."
    "Moved out?' Reece asked.
    "Sort of." As it satisfied Brody