Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons

his face that I could only imagine he was speaking so sharply against his better judgment he could hardly get the words out— either that, or it was what we were supposed to think.
    “I know this babe. She’s in here a lot. I can spot a pro when I see one.”
    That I believed.
    “We could talk to her,” said Rob and shrugged, as if it was an awful imposition. But he’d do it for his pal, Tommy. “You know how to reach her?”
    He got up off his bar stool and lumbered behind the bar. “Sure. I’ve got her card somewhere.”
    He rummaged and gave it to Rob, who glanced at it, thanked him, and slipped it in his pocket. Thinking of Rob’s performance in retrospect makes me want to take a vow never to trust anyone, no matter how sincere they seem. It was one of the best acting jobs I’ve ever seen. Because there was no way in hell to begin to guess how Rob inwardly exulted when he saw the name on that card.
    He stayed cool, nattering on about one thing and another, until we got to the car, and then he passed the card to me without a word or a blink.
    I let out a shriek, but he already had his ears covered.
    The name on the card was that of Elena Mooney, a dear friend of mine. Tommy had been right about one thing, or sort of right— Elena was a pro of sorts. She didn’t turn tricks anymore, but she was the classiest madame in town. I’d met her when I was the lawyer for HYENA, the hookers’ union, which was now defunct, but Elena and I still had lunch occasionally. For some reason, we’d hit it off.
    I phoned to make sure she was up, but someone had beat us to it. “Tommy just called and said you were on your way. Can’t wait to see you, Babe. Listen, I’m starving— could you pick up something for lunch? I’ll make it, I’ll pay for it. All you have to do is get it.”
    “Sure.”
    “Oh, Rob’s with you, isn’t he? Not pasta puttanesca, okay? I know the man’s sense of humor.”
    Since we figured she’d be more in a breakfast mood than otherwise, we got bagels and lox and found we’d guessed right. She was pouring her second cup of coffee when we got there. She sat down at the round table, looking a little bleary with no makeup. She had on short black leggings, pedal-pusher length, and a white T-shirt with whales and dolphins swimming in a blue circle on the front. Her feet were bare, her hair pinned up carelessly, her nails red daggers, as always.
    Elena lived in a genuine bordello, with red-flocked walls, bead curtains, the whole schmeer, but the kitchen was like anyone else’s, and I knew it almost as well as my own. So I toasted bagels while she talked.
    “Tommy’s an asshole, isn’t he? God! This business you meet people make your skin crawl.”
    “You’re talking like an Elmore Leonard character.”
    “Lose half my words before breakfast. Blood sugar’s down— bagel’ll fix me up.”
    “He says you sent Jason McKendrick your card one night in the restaurant.”
    “Oh, sure. Like I’ve got nothing better to do than hang out in that inferno of his. You ever know me to solicit, Rebecca? I ask you! The man offends my dignity.”
    “Tommy.”
    “Tommy. Of course. I never even met Jason. He called up, asked if I had anybody for a friend of his. She had to call him, he was shy. Well, no problem— ’nother hundred bucks, that’s all. Rob, off the record? You know that, right?”
    He spread his hands, all innocence. “Hey, Elena, you know me.”
    “Thassa prob’em.”
    I thrust a bagel in front of her. “Eat something, Elena. Now you’re losing letters.”
    She spread cream cheese thickly and applied a good portion of lox while I got bagels ready for Rob and me. He found us a couple of diet Cokes. “The girls are into those,” Elena said. “Think they’re bad for the complexion, myself.”
    When she had eaten enough to get her blood sugar up, I said, “So who’d you get for McKendrick?”
    “Well, I can’t tell you. I mean it, not even you, Rebecca.”
    “Hey, come on, Elena, this is murder. We need to talk to her.”
    “You can’t. She moved to Alaska last month.”
    “Okay, she didn’t kill him, anyway. But last I heard they had phones there.”
    “No dice. Look, you want to know two things, right? Did she do it, and did anything happen that might shed some light on anything.”
    I nodded; Rob chewed.
    “Well, no to both questions. He couldn’t even get it up.”
    “What?” Both of us nearly leapt across the table. She smiled like the Mona Lisa, enjoying