Spiral

noticed the envelope for me on his hotel’s registration desk. In fact... I flipped back to Wednesday’s page, then glanced up toward the garages. ”Is Mrs. Helides home?”
    ”No.”
    I looked at Reyes. ”Then how come you didn’t log her out?”
    He skewed his head. ”I never do.”
    ”Why, Berto?”
    ”All the Colonel wants is a list of people who come here, so that we can trace them if something turns up missing in the house or something else bad happens.”
    ”So?”
    ”So I don’t log Mrs. Helides in and out. Or call the Colonel about her, either.”
    ”Because...?”
    Reyes’s head skewed even more. ”She lives here.”
    I looked at him a bit longer before saying, ”Thanks, Berto.”
    * * *

    It took me a while to drive northwest to the Held house. When I got there, only one car was in the driveway, none on the street.
    Instead of walking around to the pool area, I went up to the front door with its spiral handles and rang the bell. After a moment, the door opened, Jeanette Held standing listlessly behind it. Bowie first wagged his tail, then began growling at me over the sill.
    I felt that tingle in the back of my head again. ”Jeanette, I’m sorry to—”
    ”Bother me?” No smile, no frown. ”Doesn’t seem to stop you, though, does it?”
    ”I’d like to see your husband.”
    ”Spi’s not here.”
    ”Do you know when he’ll be back?”
    A slow movement of her head. ”Not for a long time.” The way she enunciated the words, Jeanette Held might have been talking hours or years.
    I said, ”Do you know where I might find him?”
    ”Yeah.”
    I waited.
    She exhaled. ”The band’s doing a sound check at this club in Lauderdale.”
    ”Which club is that?”
    ”I don’t remember the name, but Spi said it was on southwest Second.”
    ”Street or avenue?”
    ‘You know that much about the city, you’ll find it”
    As she began to close the door, I said, ”Jeanette, are you all right?”
    ”No,” a little energy working its way past the surface. ”No, as a matter of feet, I’m pretty shitty. My daughter’s dead, and the one person I thought could maybe carry me through that never showed up today.”
    ”Malinda Dujong,” I said, the tingle in my head turning into a penny and dropping through its slot as Jeanette Held closed her door.

    Dujong hadn’t returned my call back to her, which I thought explained why I’d felt the tingle checking my voice mail at the hotel. I figured the concussion explained why I’d forgotten to try her a second time.
    On the other hand, she was the one who wanted to reach me.
    Driving toward the southwest part of Fort Lauderdale, I picked up my cell phone and got Dujong’s number at the tennis club from directory assistance. After I dialed and heard a ring, though, all I got was her same outgoing tape announcement. I left: another message, giving both my hotel and portable numbers again.
    Pushing the end button, I set the phone on the seat beside me. I might not be able to locate Malinda Dujong, but I thought I could find the people in Spiral.
    Who supposedly knew something about ”SuNDy MoRAn.”

    On a rough day, I finally got some luck. There were rows of bars and restaurants a couple of blocks west of the railroad tracks on S.W. 2nd Street. Since it was only late afternoon, I found a space in front of a place trying very hard to look like an authentic English pub. I went inside, the place more a spot for sedentary drinking than live music. A barmaid smiled at me, an impressive selection of labeled tap handles mounted on the wall behind her.
    ”What might I get you, luv?”
    Even an English accent. ”Any idea where a rock band would be doing its sound check on this street?”
    She looked toward the door I’d come in through. ”Lots of us have live music at night, but when I took my cigarette break a while ago, some guys were yelling inside Dicey Riley’s across the street.”
    ‘Yelling or playing?”
    A wry smile. ”More of the first than the second, I’m afraid.”
    There was a large bar catercorner from the English pub. Halfway through the intersection, I could hear what the barmaid had meant.
    ”Jesus fuck, Buford, that’s the second time you came in late on that—”
    Spi Held.
    ”Wasn’t late, babe. You got to listen for the—”
    Biggs.
    ”I know late from right, man.” Held again. ”And late is—” As I drew even with the open doorway, Ricky Queen said, ”Dudes, we got only another hour before—”
    Held’s