Party Crashers

him."
    "Your brother?"
    "He had a gambling problem. He's reformed, but he still has a lot of debt. We were able to consolidate some of it and set up payments, but this one guy that he owes ten grand to is breathing down my neck."
    "Why your neck and not your brother's?"
    "Because this guy knows that my brother doesn't care if they rough him up...but I do."
    "Do you have the money?"
    She shook her head. "I scraped together a few hundred dollars and bought another week, but by next Friday I have to have another two grand."
    "What are you going to do?"
    "As soon as I get my Miata out of the shop, I'm going to sell it. I'd hoped to put the money back into a new car, but right now I need the cash flow."
    Her eyes glistened and Jolie's heart went out to her. "Your parents can't help?"
    Carlotta's eyes turned dark. "My parents aren't around."
    "They're deceased?"
    "No...just...absent...traveling around the country. We haven't seen them in years. It's no wonder my brother and I are misfits."
    "You're not a misfit."
    She gave another laugh. "What do you call someone who borrows clothes to crash parties and assume alternate personalities?"
    "Creative. It's a shame you can't find a way to make a living at it."
    Carlotta looked away. "Look at all the trouble it landed you in."
    "I don't believe it—is that a guilty conscience?"
    Carlotta looked at Jolie and rolled her shoulders sheepishly. "Okay, I have a conscience—just don't tell anyone."
    "Carlotta, unless you shot Gary, what happened Saturday night isn't your fault. And crashing the first two parties helped me to get a lot of information I otherwise wouldn't have." Plus I got to know Beck , her mind whispered.
    "That lady detective told me that Hannah and I made things worse for you because we both have records."
    Jolie pressed her lips together.
    Carlotta sighed. "Hannah got busted for selling pot when she was in her twenties, and a bookie was trying to get my brother to go off the wagon, so I hit him."
    "Oh."
    "With a tire iron."
    " Oh . Well...still." Jolie cleared her throat. "But if you did steal Sammy's money, I might be able to talk her into not filing charges."
    "You mean blackmail her into not filing charges?"
    "Well, let's just say I have some dirt on her."
    Carlotta smiled, shaking her head. "That would be great, except...I didn't take that money. I would tell you if I did, but I didn't!"
    "The money was found in the pool filter, and there were only four of us in the pool—you, me, Hannah, and Beck."
    "I think we can strike Mr. Moneybags," Carlotta said dryly.
    "That leaves Hannah—would she have done it?"
    "Only one reason that I could think of—come on, let's go call her. I need to ask her if Russell has that tattoo." They started toward the break room. "So, what's going to happen to you?"
    Jolie inhaled deeply, then exhaled. "My attorney seems to think they'll arrest me Wednesday when the D.A. gets back into town."
    "Aren't you scared shitless?"
    "Well...pretty much. The police don't seem to have the manpower to look into all the leads, at least not right away. But I have a good lawyer, and I hope that some of the leads will pan out before there can be a trial."
    "You seem remarkably calm."
    Jolie tried to smile "Give me an alternative."
    Carlotta spun the dial on her combination lock and shook her head. "We need to take matters into our own hands, start making phone calls and taking names."
    "I'm game."
    Carlotta opened her locker and withdrew a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. "I think I'll go out on the loading dock for a smoke before I call Hannah. Want to join me?"
    "No, thanks."
    "Oh, Christ !"
    Jolie looked up from her own locker to see Carlotta staring at the box of matches. "What is it?"
    "I just remembered where I saw that picture on the wall—the pig in the suit that's in your photograph."
    "Where?"
    She held up the matchbox. "Manuel's Tavern down on North Highland Avenue. It's a hangout for politicians, reporters, cops, attorneys." She grinned. "I've met lots of famous people there, like Jimmy Carter." She sighed. "He signed my autograph book...fat lot of good it is now."
    Jolie nodded absently, aware of a memory stirring just below the surface of her consciousness. "Manuel's," she repeated. "Where have I heard that name...word...lately?" In the crazy way a person's subconscious teases, she knew it wasn't in association with the bar. It was out of context...In a conversation? She shook her head. Maybe on one of the matchbooks in