Mean Woman Blues

thought it was the best thing for me.”
    “What would you do if he called you?” she asked.
    Anguish replaced the longing on the woman’s face. “Well, I couldn’t do anything, Detective Langdon. You know that. Not and stay out of jail.” She bit off the last sentence, for a moment sounding furious.
    But almost immediately the rapt look came back, along with the spun-sugar tones. “I’d just give anything in the world to know he’s alive and all right. Anything in the world.”
    “If you hear from him, are you going to call me?”
    “You know I’ve got to.”
    And we both know you won’t
, Skip thought. She felt unsettled, as if her business with the woman were unfinished. Bettina’s longing to hear from Jacomine, so freely and ingenuously expressed, was frightening, but then so was everything about the man.
    She stood and said her good-byes. On her way out, she saw a familiar pear-shaped figure dodge into a doorway across the street. She wondered if Shellmire were following her— acting as unofficial bodyguard— or if he’d decided on his own to come see Bettina. She ignored him, knowing an acknowledgment could be a Judas kiss, and he, in turn, ignored her. He phoned a couple of hours later, catching her at Steve’s. “Bettina went to a pay phone about half an hour after you left. Did you notice a phone in her apartment?”
    “No, but who doesn’t have one?”
    “Yeah. Could be she’s in touch with him.”
    Skip felt her neck prickle and her cheeks get hot.
    Shellmire said, “We can do a few days’ surveillance. Maybe we’ll get something.”
    “Thanks, Turner. I appreciate it.” She got off the phone, heart still pounding. The agent’s diligence should have been reassuring, but she found her mind drifting in a thousand paranoid directions. She drank two glasses of wine, inducing an uneasy slumber, and sometime in the night Steve woke her. “You were having a nightmare.”
    She was clammy with sweat. The damn termites again.

CHAPTER SIX
    “You haven’t eaten all day?” Isaac sounded as if he didn’t believe it. “They
have
to feed you.”
    Terri felt sulky. No one believed her about anything any more. Probably if she mentioned her name was Terri, he’d challenge her on that. “They didn’t, okay?” she snapped.
    Isaac pulled into a McDonald’s.
    “What are you doing?”
    “We’re getting you some food. Now.”
    “No.”
    “Terri, you’ve got to eat.”
    “I can’t eat. I’ve got to go home. Just take me home, all right?” She heard herself snapping and whining, but she couldn’t help it.
    Isaac drove her home without another word, the lie between them hovering ominously in the background. She got out of the car alone, ran inside, ripped off her clothes, and got in the shower. When she emerged, some twenty minutes later, she staggered, weak and disoriented, to the kitchen, but there was nothing in the refrigerator. Literally nothing that wasn’t in a jar or bottle or didn’t have green stuff on it.
    She lay down on her bed and cried, thinking of the chocolate cake she’d thrown at Isaac’s door the night before. Had it really been less than twenty-four hours?
    She didn’t know how long she lay there before someone knocked. Frightened, she looked through the peephole, half expecting the police. It was Isaac, holding a fast-food bag. She flung open the door, feeling calmer and very much ashamed of herself.
    “I’m sorry I was such a butthead.”
    “No, I’m sorry. I brought you some food. I’ll leave. I know you want to be alone. I just—”
    “No, come in. I feel better. I’m really sorry.”
    He came in shyly, holding the bag at arm’s length, as if offering it to a slavering beast.
    Nestled in the paper bag was a shrimp po’ boy— her favorite. She fell on it while Isaac made her some iced tea.
    She drank a little: The sandwich had made her thirsty. And she said again, “I’m so sorry.”
    “Would you rather have some wine?”
    She managed a smile. “I guess I would. I think there’s some in the fridge. From about a week ago. You?”
    “I’ll get it.”
    He got her a glass, handed it to her, and eyed her warily. “Terri, what happened?”
    She sank back into a chair. “I was thinking about it while I was in jail. They gave us foam pads to sleep on, but I couldn’t sleep. I think I know. I think it’s something to do with that mix-up I had at the bank— you remember that?”
    “Yeah, those fines. I thought you had it all straightened