by Vicki Delany
Their salads arrived and with a bow, Jean-Claude excused himself to attend to the kitchen.
After dinner, reluctant to end the evening, Joanna and Elaine bundled up tightly against the winter night and strolled arm in arm down through the little town of North Ridge. Not many people were about, but the night was clear and the stars hung brightly overhead. Joanna pointed out the North Star and Orion’s belt and the Big Dipper, and a few other constellations she recognized.
They were turning around to walk back to the car when a pickup truck pulled to a halt beside them and discharged a load of rowdy teenagers. Tiffany jumped out of the cab of the truck, stumbling slightly as she hit the pavement and came to a stop as she recognized Joanna.
She didn’t say a word and was quickly pulled across the street by her male companion. She tossed her hand-knitted red scarf around her neck and they disappeared into the Last Chance Bar and Pool Hall without a backward glance.
“Uh, Ms. Hastings, can I talk to you for a moment?” A young girl Joanna didn’t know stepped out of the shadows and approached them hesitantly. Her face was a mass of soft freckles. Red tendrils escaped from underneath her winter hat. Beside her, Joanna felt Elaine tighten her grip on her purse.
“Yes?”
“My name’s Pam. I’m a friend of Tiffany’s.”
“Yes?”
“I know that you told her you didn’t ever want her coming around your place again,” the girl mumbled into her chest. She was highly embarrassed and her red complexion flamed with the effort, but she forced herself to stand her ground.
Elaine looked confused, but she relaxed her grip on her purse. There were no other pedestrians in sight, but a steady line of cars passed by, most of them headed for the parking lot behind the Last Chance.
“That’s right,” Joanna said sharply. “I befriended her and she stole something from me.”
Pam hesitated and glanced toward the open door into which the others had disappeared. More than anything she wanted to cut and run into the safety of the noisy, anonymous bar and the comfort of her friends, but she forced herself to stand in front of this stuck-up woman and her snooty friend. “Tiffany didn’t break into your house,” she mumbled.
Joanna could barely hear over the noise of cars cruising the street, the roar spilling out from the bar and the girl’s whisper. Elaine was fascinated, this was the first she heard of a breakin.
“I know she did, there is no point in you trying to defend her.”
“But she tried to stop them,” Pam cried. “Really she did. I was there. I didn’t stop them either, but I didn’t go into your house, I swear I didn’t,” she added quickly. “It was a couple of others, they said they would get Tiffany’s scarf for her. Tiffany tried to stop them, really she did. I didn’t see what happened after that, ‘cause I got out of there. But Tiff told me that they were going to wreck your place and she made them stop.” Pam paused for breath and turned to run.
“Why do you care?” Joanna stopped her. “And why are you telling me this?”
“Because I like Tiffany. She’s a nice kid, but no one will give her a chance. She likes you, you know. She really liked those computer lessons you gave her. She talked about them all the time; she told me I should ask if I could have lessons too. But my dad would never pay for them. Tiff is really broken up that she can’t work on the computer any more. She is really broken up, you know, because you don’t like her any more.” Pam shuffled her feet and glanced across at the beckoning bar door. “I had better go. She’ll be mad at me if she knows that I talked about this to you.”
“Wait, please, just a minute.” Joanna put out a hand and grasped the girl’s sleeve. “If Tiffany tried to stop the others from breaking into my cabin, then why didn’t she tell me? Why did she let me believe that she did it?”
Pam looked at Joanna as if she didn’t have a brain cell in her head. “She wouldn’t tell on her friends. No one would ever talk to her again her if she did that. And I gotta go or they won’t talk to me neither.” She ran across the road and barely managed to be missed by a pickup tearing through town at over 100 kilometers an hour. The boys hanging out of the back of the cab whistled and yelled obscenities at her, but the truck swerved wildly and kept on going.
They watched the car careen through town. A beer bottle launched from the driver’s window crashed against the wall of a run-down hardware store. It bounced off the bricks and clattered down the street before coming to rest in the gutter.
“Now what was all that about?” Elaine asked.
Joanna didn’t answer. She resumed the walk back to her car, hands stuffed in her pockets, head bent in thought, kicking aimlessly at the dirty piles of snow lining the sidewalk. As they neared the restaurant they could see warm yellow light spilling out onto the deserted street and hear bright laughter and the cheerful clink of crockery and glassware. The wonderful smell of garlic and roasting meat drifted through the cold, crisp winter air.
“That was a great meal,” Elaine said, melting at the memory of it. “I would definitely come all this way just to eat there again. Let’s come in the spring, and see what Jean-Claude has on the menu then. It will be totally different, I expect.”
Lost in thought, Joanna didn’t hear her. She had misjudged Tiffany badly. She, of all people, should have remembered that to a teenager loyalty to one’s friends, often sadly misplaced as it was, was the highest virtue. Although Alexis’ steadfast refusal to hear a word against any of her friends sometimes brought Joanna to tears, she had always had a degree of respect for her daughter’s faithfulness. And if she had misjudged Tiffany about the scarf, what else was there she might have failed to notice? “I have something to do before we go home,” she announced to Elaine. “Come with me, quickly.” Joanna turned around once again and marched firmly down the street. Confused, tired and cold, Elaine followed.
A blast of overheated air hit them full in the face as they pushed open the heavy, scarred wooden door. The inside of the Last Chance was as seedy as the outside promised. The lighting was poor; several light sockets held long-burned out bulbs that no one had ever bothered to replace. A thick pall of cigarette haze hung overhead and the air was redolent of smoke, greasy food, thawing boots, wet woolen mittens and unwashed bodies. Wallpaper of indeterminate color hung in tatters from the walls and the wood floor under their feet creaked with every step. Large water stains covered the ceiling. Country and western music blared from the old jukebox. A collection of musician’s equipment was arranged on a small stage, presumably the live band was taking a break. The room stretched off into darkness and there was no sign of Tiffany.
“You ladies looking for something?” A short heavyset man with a shaved head and bushy beard approached them. There was nothing friendly in his greeting. His arms bulged with tightly packed muscle, a long snake tattoo ran up each arm to disappear under the sleeves of a short-sleeved, very grimy T-shirt, souvenir of a visit to a strip club in Toronto. A tiny silver earring glittered in each ear. He looked over both women slowly and puffed lazily on the last half-inch of a non-filtered cigarette.
Joanna stepped forward. “I would like to speak to the owner, please.”
“That’s me, but I don’t think you ladies,” he sneered the word, “have any business with me.” He blew a cloud of smoke into Joanna’s face.
Elaine disdainfully waved her hand in the air, but Joanna ignored it. “I wonder if we could go somewhere and talk.”
He leered at her. “You want to talk, do you?”
Joanna flushed but held her ground. “Yes, I do want to talk, for a few minutes.” The door flew open and let in a breath of fresh cold air, as two men sauntered into the bar. They glared at Joanna and Elaine suspiciously and stopped to exchange handshakes and some undecipherable greeting with the owner before continuing on into the bar. The man watched them go and then turned back to Joanna. He spat onto the floor, barely missing the toe of Joanna’s boot. Elaine cringed but said nothing.
“You two don’t look
like cops,” the man said.
“We aren’t,” Joanna said. “Look, I only want a couple of minutes of your time.” She took a deep breath. “I want to ask you about something that happened on the night of December second.”
His dark eyes glittered with a spark of interest, but it quickly extinguished. He tossed his butt onto the floor and ground it out with his toe. The floor was littered with the remains of cigarettes, the wood heavily scarred with burn marks and ground-in ash. “That was almost two months ago. How’m I gonna remember one night, eh?”
A middle-aged woman, dressed in a short flared skirt, high heels and a frilly, scooped-neck blouse that displayed a good portion of overabundant breasts, looked over. She opened her mouth to speak but shut it again and stood behind the bar owner, watching the interlopers.
“December second,” Joanna repeated. “You must remember that night. A man disappeared from Hope River that night. Everyone would have been talking about it the next day.”
“Look lady, the cops have been here asking me questions about that. I’ll tell you what I told them-nothing.” He paused to drag the last cigarette out of a crushed and broken pack and tossed the empty carton onto the floor without a glance. “Now if you want a drink, come on in. But I ain’t got time to talk.” He pushed past the waitress who was waiting to speak to him and returned to the bar. The band, a scruffy group of local boys dressed in cowboy hats and boots and large, shiny belt buckles finished their break and clambered up onto the stage amid equal parts cheers and boos.
The waitress eyed Joanna and Elaine, her excessively made-up eyes tinged with suspicion. “What are you wanting to know about the second?” she asked.
“There was a group of teenagers here that night, most of them are back again I think…” Joanna said.
In front of the long bar a waitress dropped a tray of empty beer bottles and full ashtrays. Elaine almost jumped out of her skin as the crash echoed through the large room. The patrons hooted and clapped and stomped their feet with enthusiasm. “A big hand for the juggler,” someone shouted to appreciative cheers.
“I can’t talk here,” the woman said. “I can take my break soon, give me about ten minutes, I’ll meet you out front.” She ran to help the red-faced waitress scoop up broken glass and wipe the floor.
On the way out Joanna bumped into a man so thickly swathed against the cold he could barely see where he was going. She mumbled an apology and he looked up. It was Jack, from the grocery store in Hope River. Joanna opened her mouth to offer a greeting, but Jack merely glared at her and pushed his way past.
“For God’s sake, Joanna,” Elaine said through her teeth when they were back out on the sidewalk. “What on Earth can you be thinking? We aren’t going to stand here all night and wait for that horrid woman are we? We could freeze to death out here-that’s if we don’t get murdered first.”
Joanna pulled her friend away from the lights spilling out from the bar. The capital “C” in the sign over the door was flickering frantically, about to go out. Soon it would be the Last hance.
“Now where are we going?”
“I want to get out of sight as best we can,” Joanna said. “We can wait over here.”
“We’re not going to wait for that woman are we? Are you out of your mind?” Elaine grumbled. “We had such a lovely dinner, how did it turn into this?”
Joanna couldn’t explain. “Please, Elaine. This matters to me. You can go back to the car if you want. I’m sure she will be here in a minute.”
“Oh, I guess I had better stay. Wouldn’t want you to be tempted to go back into the place and join the boys in a drink.”
Joanna grinned. “Thanks.”
It was cold out on the street; they marched in little circles to generate some heat. A steady stream of patrons flowed in and out of the bar. A police car drove slowly past but it didn’t stop. Joanna and Elaine retreated back into the shadows. They didn’t want to have to explain what they were doing there. A boy flew out of the bar and took off down the street, two men fast behind him screaming obscenities. The boy leapt lightly over a patch of ice but his followers were too heavy and slow to miss it. One of them skidded on the surface and with arms and legs flailing wildly, crashed into the sidewalk. His companion tried to jump him but missed and tripped over the falling body. Realizing that he was no longer being chased the boy turned and laughed at his pursuers lying in a heap on the sidewalk. He jeered loudly and danced a few wild steps to announce his delight, then he disappeared around a corner and was gone. The two men struggled to their feet and limped back to the bar, their prey forgotten, cursing each other with every painful step.
Joanna and Elaine were so occupied in watching the antics on the street they didn’t hear the woman slip up behind them. She had come out the back door and down the alley. “Mind if I smoke?” she asked, already lighting up. They both jumped at the words. In the harsh light from the street lamps Joanna could see that the woman was much older than she appeared in the gloom of the bar. Her head was a rat’s nest of bright red, over-teased hair. A small scar ran down the edge of her right cheek and she was missing two side teeth. Most of her harsh red lipstick had been chewed off and her mascara was smeared under one eye.
She stepped into the alley, high heels sinking into unshoveled snow. “I’d rather no one saw us talking. Bob wouldn’t be too happy with me. He doesn’t like people coming around asking questions about what goes on in our bar.”
“Is Bob the owner?” Joanna asked. She sniffed their surroundings, beside her Elaine shifted uncomfortably. Even in the freezing night air the smell in the alley was rancid. Patches of yellow dotted the snow along the side of the building. She hoped they were from a dog.
“He’s my husband,” she replied. “We own it together. Now why do you want to know about December second? You’re not cops, are you? You sure don’t look it.”
Joanna had the vague idea that she had been insulted but let it go.
“Bob said the police came around. Did you talk to them?”
“I don’t talk to the cops, not if I don’t have to.”
“Well, I want to know about a group of teenagers who came in that night. You might remember them, I think that they’re regulars, in particular a short, thin girl with purple hair and a nose ring. Did you see her that night?”
The woman stared at her and puffed on her cigarette. “I might have. I’m not really too sure.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Elaine muttered and dug into her purse. She pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and held it up in front of her. “Did you see the girl my friend is asking about?”
“Yea, I saw her.” The woman reached out and snatched the pink bill. Joanna half expected her to stuff the money down the front of her blouse, but instead it was slipped into a coat pocket.
“The girl was here. She comes here a lot. That’s a no account bunch of kids she hangs out with. Up to no good the whole lot of them.” The woman peered at Joanna. “She your daughter? Don’t look much like you.”
“No, she’s not my daughter. She was wearing a jacket that night. A big black one with a Chicago Bulls logo on the back. Do you remember it?”
“Yea, I’ve seen her in that jacket before. It was a nice jacket, she always seemed right proud of it.” The woman took a deep drag of her cigarette and coughed. She choked on a thick blob of phlegm and spat it into the nearest snowdrift. Elaine grimaced in disgust.
“What you staring at, Miss Hoity-Toity?” The waitress glared at Elaine. “No one forced you to come here, you know.”
“Do you remember if anything happened to the girl’s jacket that night?” Joanna asked.
The woman paused and tossed her cigarette into the alley. “Hard to remember, it was a long time ago.”
Elaine pulled another fifty out of her purse. She knew well that she was paying for her disdain. “This is all I have on me,” she said. “Answer the rest of my friend’s questions, then I’ll give it to you. The woman eyed Elaine’s black leather gloves,
soft as silk, with a bit of fur peeking out of the cuff. Her own hands were red and rough from the cold and knotted with age and hard work. “Nice gloves you have there,” she said.
“Thank you,” Elaine replied.
“Give her the gloves, Elaine,” Joanna hissed.
“What!”
“I’ll buy you another pair, just give her the gloves.”
Elaine handed over the money and her gloves.
“Okay.” The woman slipped the gloves over her hands and stroked them lightly. “I know what you want to know. The girl’s jacket was stolen. She left it over the back of her chair and went to the bathroom. When she was ready to leave the jacket was missing. She was real upset about it, too. I remember ‘cause I helped her look for it. Thought maybe she misplaced it. But it was gone. I felt sorry for her, it was mighty cold out that night.”
“Didn’t the police ask you about the jacket?”
“They asked Bob.”
“Why didn’t you tell them what you’ve told me?”
The woman stared at Joanna. “Lady, I don’t tell the police nothing.”
Joanna didn’t understand. “But you could have saved that girl a lot of trouble. This is important.”
The woman lifted her new gloves up to her face and stroked the leather gently against her cheek. “Lady, you and your friend look like you’ve had a nice soft life, so why don’t you just go back where you belong.” She dug another cigarette out of her pocket and held it between her fingers for a few moments. She decided against taking off the gloves to light a smoke and put the cigarette back. She looked at Joanna’s blank face and at Elaine trying to hold in her disgust at their surroundings and she laughed. “Listen, ladies.” She gave the word the same sneer as had her husband. “I’m nice and comfortable in this town now. Bob may not look like much to you, but he’s good to me and we run a good business. But I’ve spent my time on the streets. I can tell you stories would make your hair curl. And one thing a girl learns real quick on the streets is that you don’t tell the cops nothing. That girl with the purple hair what comes in here sometimes, she reminds me of me at that age. All bluster and know-everything and headed straight for trouble. I’m telling you about her jacket getting taken ‘cause I don’t want to see the girl in trouble when she don’t have to be. But I don’t offer nothing to the cops.” She grinned, in the faint light from the street lamps the gaps in her teeth aged her about twenty years. “Besides, the cops don’t offer me nice presents like this.” She stroked the gloves again.