Spiral

How many—never mind. There was Tranh, laying my little girl, naked and dead, on the pool tile. Telling us he has to call nine-one-one.”
    ”You know the lab report said Veronica tested positive for cocaine.”
    ”Yeah,” said Held, running an index finger under his nose again, ”and even without my lawyer coaching me, I don’t know where the fuck she got it.”
    ”You said you have some for medicinal—”
    ”Shit, man. The stuff I’m using now I didn’t even score till after Very was dead. There wasn’t any in the house before that, because we were working. Working on the comeback.”
    ”Mr. Held, do you know of anybody—at the party that day or not—who would want to kill your daughter?”
    Spi Held rocked his head from side to side and made a sound like exasperation. ”That’s what I been trying to tell you, man. Very was our chariot back to the stars. Why would anybody want to kill that?”

    ”Jeanette, this is... Hey, Jeanette!”
    The woman with straight, reddish-blond hair on one end of a caramel couch in the sunken living room finally turned her head slowly toward the doorway where Spi Held and I were standing. Bowie the Australian shepherd was lying at her feet. A second woman—with long, black hair^ sat on the other end of the couch and had looked up as soon as she’d seen us. Asian features, olive skin, and eyes that didn’t leave mine.
    I was thinking of the voice on the phone when Spi Held said, ”Jeanette, try to like snap out of it for fifteen, okay? The dog growled, but Spi Held ignored it. ”This is the private eye my dad hired. John Cuddy, my wife, Jeanette.”
    I stopped looking at the Asian woman long enough to walk down the three marble steps and cross the room to Veronica’s mother, who up close had her daughter’s hair color but none of the dead girl’s vamping quality. ”Mrs. Held, I’m truly sorry for your troubles.”
    She just stared up at me, like I was some harmless barnyard animal who had somehow wandered into her house. ”Malinda is helping me with that.”
    I looked to the other woman now, who stood. Only about five-two, she’d looked taller sitting down.
    Malinda said, ”My last name is Dujong, Mr. Cuddy. D-U-J-O-N-G.”
    The Philippine accent.
    Dujong extended her hand. Taking it, I felt a little ripple of energy, almost an electric jolt. ”You’re a grief counselor?”
    ”Not as such,” she said, releasing my hand. ”More spiritual advisor.”
    Spi Held sounded impatient behind me. ”Jeanette, Mr.... Jeanette!”
    Another slow turning of the reddish-blond head toward the doorway.
    Her husband said, ”Mr. Cuddy wants to ask you some questions about Very.”
    Though I wasn’t watching him, there was a definite pause in the impatient voice before he added, ”Alone.” Jeanette Held said, ”I don’t see how I can talk about that without Malinda.”
    As her husband began to fume, the dog growled again. Dujong broke in with, ”Jeanette, I have a very strong feeling about Mr. Cuddy.” The ”spiritual advisor” spoke her next Words directly to me. ”He has suffered, too, and recently. This man will not harm you intentionally.”
    I felt a little lump in my throat as Malinda Dujong walked toward Spi Held, who left the doorway before she passed through it. After Dujong was gone, I realized I couldn’t have described to you what she’d been wearing.
    When I turned back to Jeanette Held, she said, ”If Malinda trusts you, I trust you, too.”
    I took an armchair the same caramel color as the leather couch. ”Mrs. Held—”
    ”Please, call me ‘Jeanette.’ The media people all scream ‘Mrs. Held’ at me, like as long as they’re polite enough to use my last name, they can follow it with any question that pops into their filthy minds.”
    As Bowie resettled himself across her feet, I started to revise my initial assessment of Jeanette Held. Hammered as she’d been by what had happened to her daughter, there was intelligence behind the shock shield raised around her. ”Jeanette, I want to make this as easy as possible for you.” A resigned smile seeped through the shield. ‘Too late, but not your fault.” The smile retreated back inside her. ”Ask your questions.”
    Start with some easy ones. ”How long have you and your husband been married?”
    ”Fourteen years. He was thirty, clean and sober. For a while. I was twenty-five.”
    Making the Helds forty-four and thirty-nine now. ”How did you meet?”
    ”Through the