S Is for Silence

mother was a natural beauty. Poor Kathy Cramer. I’d be mortified if my father connected up with someone like that.”
    The dinner crowd was picking up, so Jake excused himself to tend to business while the three of us settled in with our drinks and a serious contemplation of the menu. We all ordered the filet mignon, medium rare, with a salad up front and a side of baked potato. We were finishing the meal when the subject of Kathy Cramer surfaced again. Having been granted immunity from any accusation of gossiping, I naturally passed along the news about the collapse of the Cramer-Smith marriage.
    “Well, good for him. She is such a bitch. I’m happy to hear he’s finally busting out,” Tannie said.
    Daisy said, “I’m with you. About time he got a backbone.”
    “I’m not sure you can call it ‘busting out’ when she’s giving him the boot,” I said.
    Tannie made a pained face. “But he used to be so cute. And really, the name Winston. Could you just die?” she said. “I do think someone should tell him to drop the weight. Even twenty pounds would make a difference. He goes back on the market, I know half a dozen women who’d snap him up.”
    “Including me,” Daisy said, offended that Tannie would offer him up without consulting her.
    “Oh, right. Just what you need, another guy with an ax to grind. Wait till Kathy hits him up for alimony and child support. He’ll never get out from under.”
    “I don’t know about that.”
    “What choice does he have?” Tannie asked. “They’ve been married close to thirty years. She had a crush on him since eighth grade. Remember that? No, you wouldn’t. You were still in elementary school. But I’m telling you, even when I was ten, I’d see her moping around town. So pathetic. She’d find ways to bump into him and she’d be going, ‘Oh gee, Winston, I had no idea you’d be here.’ She’d sit behind him in church and stare at him like she could eat him alive. The guy never had a chance.”
    I said, “I saw the wedding photo he keeps in his office. He was very trim.”
    Tannie said, “True. And she was big as a tank.”
    “How’d she lose the weight?”
    “How do you think? She’s popping pills like after-dinner mints.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “No, I’m not. Black-market speed. She’s got a source, from what I heard.”
    “Now that I think about it, she did seem amped,” I said.
    The busboy removed our plates and the waitress showed up again to offer us dessert, which all three of us declined.
    I watched as a man leaving the bar did a detour toward our table. From across the room, I placed him in his midforties, but by the time he’d reached us, I’d added thirty years. His wavy hair was dark, but the color was a shade I imagined Grecian Formula would produce. His eyes were blue behind heavy black-frame glasses that had hearing aids built into the stems. He was roughly my height, five-six, but the heels on his boots gave him another couple of inches. He wore jeans, a red plaid shirt with a string tie, over which he’d buttoned a powder blue western-cut sport coat, nipped in at the waist.
    He greeted Daisy and Tannie with familiarity, taking each by the hand. When all the air-kissing was over, Tannie introduced us. “This is Kinsey Millhone. Tom Padgett. He owns Padgett Construction and the A-Okay Heavy Equipment yard in Santa Maria. Daisy bought her old house from him.”
    “Nice meeting you,” I said.
    We made polite noises at each other and then he and Tannie chatted while Daisy excused herself.
    Tannie gestured toward the empty chair. “Join us for a drink.”
    “I don’t want to barge in.”
    “Don’t be silly. I’ve been meaning to call you anyway to pick your brain.”
    “What’s left of it,” he said.
    He treated us to a round of after-dinner drinks, and the conversation moved from the general to the specific, that being the Tanner house and the debate about rehabilitation. Padgett’s expression was pained. “House hasn’t been lived in since 1948. You forget I did a lot of work for Hairl Tanner, and he showed me around. Plumbing and wiring were both a mess even back then. Recent fire aside, the house looks good from the outside, but once you go in, you got a real disaster on your hands. Hell, I don’t have to tell you. You know what I’m talking about.”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    “Let a house like that sit empty and first the raccoons move in. Then the termites, then the bums. It was grand once upon a