Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons

I’d known her a few years— she got tipsy at a party and told me about it.”
    “Do you think she was lying?”
    “Actually, I’m inclined to believe it. She seemed pretty damn sure.”
    “You believe in ETs?”
    “Well, I didn’t till then.”

Chapter Sixteen
    Chris hadn’t been in the office when I left, but she was very much there when I got back— and practically on fire: “I’ve got the missing piece.”
    I sank down in her clients’ chair. “Well, for God’s sake, what is it?”
    “It’s something in the past all right, just like Rosalie said. But it’s so trivial, just so tiny , you’d never think of it. And you’d never in a million years connect it with some big drama in your life.”
    I was going to jump up and down and scream if she didn’t tell me soon.
    “I went home and looked in my kitchen, like Moonblood said, and there wasn’t a damn thing there that isn’t always there. But then I went to bed and I had this weird dream, about hanging up my clothes on a hook. Then when I got up, there it was— the hook, bigger than life, right in my kitchen, exactly like Moonblood said.”
    “What hook?”
    “The one where I keep my extra keys— to the house, I mean. But there might— just very, very possibly might— have been a car key, too. The hook’s behind the door, which I never close, so I didn’t even notice they weren’t there; I guess Pigball forgot to return them.” Her normally charming habit of forgetting names was now up there— for irritation value— with guys who call you “doll.”
    “May I ask which Pigball?”
    “My friend Roxanne, who cat-sits when I go away for the weekend, or on vacation or something. I’ve known her forever— well, since high school, actually; she’s from my hometown. We don’t have much in common, but we’ve always kept in touch. Anyway, she’s a freelance something— editor, I think, and she does this kind of stuff for a few extra bucks. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been anywhere at all— but for all I know she’s had the keys a lot longer; I never think about whether she does or doesn’t have them because she’s a good friend and I trust her— and I always know I’ll be calling her again for the same job.”
    “Have you talked to her?”
    “Her phone’s disconnected.” Seeing my fallen face, she said, “But not to worry. I have her mom’s number in Virginia. I was just about to call when you came in.”
    “I’ve got to ask you something; I just have to. How could you forget your extra set of keys?”
    She looked hurt. “Well first of all, in my mind they weren’t missing. I just never thought— because they’re always there, where they’re supposed to be.” She touched her long nose. “And second, they’re house keys. I seem to have this dim, dim recollection of once putting a car key on the ring, so I’d have a complete set. But I don’t know if I did it or just thought about it once or twice.”
    Kruzick, who’d been lurking in the doorway, trotted out his best Eddie Haskell voice: “May I make a suggestion? How about calling Roxanne’s mother?”
    “Roger,” Chris said, and for obvious reasons the word made me laugh.
    She dialed. “Mrs. Niekirk? Chris Nicholson. Oh, gosh, it has, hasn’t it?”
    Been a long time , I filled in, and hoped the pleasantries weren’t going to go on at the normal Southern length.
    Finally, she said, “I was wondering— I think Roxanne’s moved and for some reason I don’t have her phone number. Do you think— oh, she’s there? Well, yes by all means.” Pause. “Roxanne Niekirk, whatever do you think you’re doing, leavin’ town without tellin’ me?” Her accent had kicked back to life. “Oh, hey. Darlin’, what’d I say? Listen, I’m really, really sorry.”
    I gathered that Roxanne’s reasons for leaving town weren’t the happiest. But neither Kruzick, who by now had come in and sat down, nor I, were delicate enough to leave. We listened as Chris soothed her friend and then worked up to asking about the keys. Which apparently provoked a whole new flood of tears. Chris soothed a little bit more and then her end of the conversation began to tend more toward the occasional “uh-huh” or “yes”, accompanied by alert nods and vigorous finger drumming; even note taking now and then.
    After a time, she said, “I think I might have some bad news for you. Jason McKendrick died about a week ago.”
    Judging from what followed, Roxanne