Whittaker 03 The Secrets We Keep

by Donna White Glaser

  “God has a sense of humor, I guess.” His glance flicked to Beth, checking on her, but the distraction wasn’t enough to stop him from directing hormone waves over me.

  “She really can take care of herself,” I said quietly. “She handled that situation a lot better than… “

  Now I had his attention. “Than I would have?”

  “I was going to say better than any male would. Men have too much testosterone swinging around. Gets in the way, sometimes.”

  “Maybe that’s what makes eyelashes grow.” He grinned and put his arm up along the back of the booth, drawing me into his circle.

  “Like fertilizer?”

  “Just my eyelashes. I think you’re trying to distract me.” He started playing with a lock of my hair, curling it around his finger and letting it spring loose. I shivered. Was he about to kiss me? My eyes settled on his lips. They looked soft.

  Beth plopped down.“Finally got some real info,” she announced. “Oh. Sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Yes, Letty was just about to kiss me.”

  “You really are full of it,” I said.

  “Is she blushing?” Beth asked Eli.

  He nodded.

  “I do not blush.” My cheeks felt so hot I considered hunting down the bar’s ice machine so I could plunge face first into it.

  Beth shrugged. “If you say so. Anyway, Scooter says he and Trinnie used to talk some, being as how they knew each other from the club. Our club, that is. Anyway, he said she used to go on and on about feeling guilty about something. I asked him if it had to do with relapsing, which almost pissed him off again. He’s a little sensitive.”

  “Projecting,” I murmured. Then louder, “Maybe it was connected to the adultery thing?”

  Eli interrupted. “What a minute. Are you two doing what I think you’re doing?”

  FIFTEEN

  Beth answered my question first. “Scooter didn’t think it had to do with her going back out.” To Eli, she said: “Trinnie liked fooling around with married guys. She had a list of people she pissed off; Letty found it in her Big Book.”

  “So, you two are what? Trying to find her killer?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. Beth tossed me a look. “Well, maybe. The thing is the cops think a friend of ours might be involved. I happen to know that person could never… Paul would never… ” Eli was studying my face closely. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, Trinnie used nicknames, in real life and on the list, which makes it difficult to decipher. And concerning the time she was in recovery, we may know things the police don’t. Things they wouldn’t have access to. Right now, we’re just trying to find out more about what Trinnie was up to after she left AA. If we come up with anything, we’ll take it to the cops then. Did she ever say anything to you about feeling guilty?”

  “She and I never talked much,” he replied. “One time, though… ” His eyes took on a faraway look. “One time she talked about some kid. Something about an accident. She wasn’t really talking to me. She was blitzed, talking to herself and crying. I ended up calling a cab for her. She wouldn’t take it, either. I remember being pissed about that. Sometimes they just won’t cooperate and I get worried about Manny losing the bar in a lawsuit or something.”

  This was new. I turned to Beth, puzzled. “Something about an accident and a kid? Why wouldn’t she have put that in her Fourth Step? I mean, if she was feeling guilty enough to cry in her beer over it, why wouldn’t she have put it in her inventory?”

  “Good question, kiddo. Maybe the list was only partly done?”

  I pulled it out, studied it. “Well, it doesn’t exactly say The End, but the impression I got when she called was that she’d finished it. I don’t know. You could be right. I hope not because if the list is incomplete, this whole thing is hopeless.”

  “Not necessarily,” Eli said. “Use it as a spring board.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Beth.

  “Well, the list brought you here to the Taz and got you the info from the asshole over there about her feeling guilty. So you pursue that line. I’m just saying be careful about depending too much on the list, especially if it doesn’t use real names, anyway.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “The name thing’s been a problem from the beginning. First of all, we have to go on Trinnie’s impressions of people. Second, we have to factor in her anger and level of drunkenness when she wrote it.”

  Beth reached over, taking the list from me. She read it again, then handed it to Eli.

  While he examined it, I looked across the table at her. Mistake. She was winking madly at me and making kissy faces. The mature thing, of course, would have been to ignore her. It’s not like I haven’t had extensive training in not taking things personally, in maintaining boundaries and decorum.

  I kicked her.

  Beth yelped, causing Eli to glance up. She rubbed her leg with one hand, waving off his silent question with the other. I gave him big, innocent eyes and a shrug. Shaking his head, he resumed studying Trinnie’s list.

  Time to get focused. Beth was rubbing her shin and muttering, so I snapped my fingers under her nose.

  “Hey,” I said. “Something’s missing.”

  “Like manners?”

  “No, I’m serious. The guys I talked to said Trinnie got kicked out before Christmas, like in November. But Manny didn’t buy the place until around the New Year, right?” I turned to Eli, who had tuned back in when I’d started talking.

  “End of January,” he said. “The 12th was the closing on the bar.”

  “Okay. So, Ryan from the Club said Trinnie started coming in to Bruisers after that. Maybe around March or so?”

  Eli and Beth nodded agreement.

  “So, where was she between November and March?”

  “That’s at least four months, maybe five,” Beth said, her brow furrowed.

  “That’s a pretty big chunk of time missing,” Eli added. “You think she was at another bar?”

  “Could be,” I said slowly. “But, if so, how are we going to find out which one?”

  We all sat quietly for a minute. Just as Eli opened his mouth to say something, Jerry sang out, “Last Call!” The discussion had to be shelved for the time being. The two remaining patrons were grumbling about the early closing and trying to get another round in. It didn’t make sense to stick around, waiting for them to get behind the wheel.

  The fresh air outside was heaven. Beth made a beeline for Eli’s Camero parked under the solitary lot light that hadn’t been broken out by vandals. I glanced over to see Eli’s proud smile. I didn’t understand Car Speak—words like cowl induction hood, hidden headlights, and blah-blah cubic-inch engine were being thrown about with complete abandon.

  I thought the dark blue paint with white stripes was very stylish, but kept my opinion to myself.

  As we stood there admiring, Eli brought us back to the topic at hand.

  “Hey, about the missing time period for Trinnie? Let’s check back with Reggie and Manny. It’s a long shot, but what are the choices? Unless… “

  “Unless what?” Beth asked.

  “Was she close to her family? It seems like the quickest way to find out where she was and what she was doing.”

  “Unfortunately, she was estranged from them. Even when she was sober, her mother would have nothing to do with her. But I’ll check it out Wednesday.”

  “What happens Wednesday?”

  “Her funeral,” Beth answered Eli. “But we should try to talk to Reggie before then. Couldn’t hurt anyway.”

  “Why not right now?” Eli asked, looking at back and forth at both of us. “Manny almost never closes before 1:00 a.m.”

  “Won’t Reggie be too drunk?” I questioned.

  “Reggie’s always drunk.”

  “Listen, kids,” Beth interjected. “You two go on ahead. I’m going to sit this one out. I’m beat.”

  She looked innocent. Which meant she wasn’t. When
she added we should take the Camero, I was certain. Before I could catch my breath, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Eli’s baby.

  Even with the top down, night wind streaming over us, the air felt charged and thick, as heated as the engine. I leaned back against the leather and tried to clear my mind, Zen-like. The lusties, as Beth called them, were making my body pulse.

  Minutes later—too soon—we cruised to a stop. Eli got out, crossing to the passenger side to open my door. Music pounded through the dark, swelling as we crossed the blacktop. Despite the heightened sexual tension, I felt strangely content with the warm summer night, the soft breeze… and the man at my side.

  Before we reached the door, Eli took my hand, pulling me to a stop. “This Paul?” he said. “Are you and he…?”

  I felt a blush rising. “No. No, we’re just friends.”

  He studied my face carefully, then nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. Still holding hands, we entered Bruisers.

  SIXTEEN

  Several rowdy calls went up from points along the bar, greeting Eli as we came in the door. Up until now, I’d managed to forget about “Snake”. He grinned at me, as I made a face at the reminder. I spotted Reggie.

  Although not yet assuming her tripod stance, she was well on her way. I wished we had gotten here earlier. The seat next to her was empty, so I joined her. Eli moved up to stand behind me, looking over my right shoulder.

  Close.

  The serene complacency I’d imagined moments ago vanished with his heated proximity. My skin tingled, hyper-alert, nerve endings vigilant with the possibility of his touch. When he spoke, his voice rumbled low in my ear conjuring up visions of bedroom murmurs. Like I needed this right now.

  “Hey, Reggie-girl,” he said.

  Reggie turned at the sound of his voice, smiling blearily. The good news was she was able to focus, her eyes still tracked, and she recognized me from yesterday. I didn’t know yet what the bad news might be, but with her level of intoxication there would be obstacles.

  “Snaky,” she slurred, her speech mushy around the edges like spoiled fruit. She breathed heavily through her nose, trying to convert oxygen into a stabilizing agent. I could have told her it wouldn’t work. “Snake, you have got the sexiest, mother fruckin’ voice I ever heard. You know that? Wait… fruckin’. That don’t sound right.”

  “Close enough,” Eli reassured her. “How’s my girl doing?”

  “You big liar. I’m not your girl anymore. Your girl’s sitting right there. You got her tucked under your chin like a dog with a bone. Ha! Bone. Get it?” Suddenly she grew serious and zoomed in on me. “Now, don’t take no offense, honey. You’re not a bone or nothin’. I just got to razz this guy a little. He’s too sexy for his own good. Makes all the women crazy.” Zoom out. “But you two look real good together. I wouldn’t a thought it, but you do. You got a good aura, the two of you. Good balance. Yin-yang kinda stuff, right?”

  “Like peanut butter and jelly,” I answered, grinning.

  “Yeah. Only you got to be the jelly ‘cause I can’t see him being the sweet one.” She paused to slug her Scotch. Turning back, she peered owl-y at me, and nodded wisely as if bestowing her blessing. “So. What are you guys doin’ in here with a old lush like me? Should be out in the wild, dark night somewhere. It’s beautiful out there, ain’t it?”

  “It’s gorgeous tonight, but we have a couple questions for you about Trinnie.”

  “Gorgeous, huh? He’s gorgeous. Ain’t he?” Thankfully, she didn’t seem to require an answer. “It’s those crazy eyes. Like a wolf. And that voice? Yowza, baby. ‘Cause you are one sexy devil, Snake. Even you’re name—Snake. What would Papa Freud say about that one, huh?”

  I tilted my head back to observe the effect her running commentary had on the sexy devil. Embarrassed as hell, which seemed appropriate. I guessed the phallic tie-in was what did it. Before I could gloat, he glided his hand down the small of my back, circling around my waist. His hand left a tingling trail of heat down my spine.

  I had to clear my throat twice before I could speak. “Reggie, listen… about Trinnie? We’ve been talking to some people and there seems to be some time missing. There’s a gap between when she got kicked out of Taz and when she ended up here. Do you know anything about it?”

  “A gap, huh?” Reggie furrowed her brows in concentration. “Like you want to know if she was at some other bars or something?”

  “Exactly. Did she talk about any other place she might have been a regular at? This would have been between November and March, we think.”

  “Holidays.” Drunk as she was, she was still able to pull a fact like that out of the air. Good for her. “Maybe she went to church. Ha! But, hell, I dunno. I told you what I know about her and it ain’t much. Wasn’t like we were best buds, you know. I don’t have any real friends.” Reggie was starting to assume her tripod, conversation sliding into melancholia. We were about to peak out of useful information.

  “Reggie? One more thing. Did Trinnie ever talk about feeling guilty about something? Something about a kid?”

  At that question, Reggie suddenly lurched upright, focused tighter on my face, which necessitated closing one eye.

  “Yeah,” she said slowly, drawing the syllable out. “Yeah. You know, she did. But when she got to bawling in her beer, I kind of tuned her out.” Here she lifted her finger to prepare us for the following lesson. “You don’t want to encourage these drunks to tell you all their sob stories. I’m ‘sentially a positive person. I try to—” She paused, battling a rising belch. “—avoid negtivivity.” Big frown, but she must have decided to bluff it out. Either that or she got distracted. She zoomed back in on Eli with a giant smile. “Hey cutie! You better listen to ol’ Mama Reggie now. Words of wisdom.”

  “I hear you,” Eli assured her. His rumbling voice seemed to sooth her as much as his reassurance. She leaned back, draining her glass. We weren’t going to get anything more out of her.

  Turning, I found myself bare millimeters away from each and every part of Eli. Ignoring wildly alert girl-parts, I pushed gently on his chest, easing him back a notch. His dimple flashed as he shifted back, just enough to open space between us. His playfulness kept me from feeling guilty.

  Ah!

  Eli accurately read the eureka moment on my face. “What’s up?”

  “What if Reggie’s right? What if she did go to church? Trinnie, I mean. She was feeling guilty about something, right? And it was the holidays. She just got kicked out of a bar, and she’s feeling lousy. Maybe lonely. She easily could have decided to go to church.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Eli agreed. “Maybe an attempt to clean up her act.”

  “Sure. Plenty of people go to church to get sober. Sometimes that’s all they need. Some of the AA die-hards don’t like it, but if it works, I’m all for it.”

  “She could have been embarrassed about relapsing. She might have wanted to get clean before facing her AA buddies.”

  It felt right. But which church? The thought of bopping around town from church to synagogue asking about a murdered woman was daunting. There must be some way to narrow it down. I put the question to Eli, who also had no clue. Maybe Beth would have an idea. For now, it was time to call it a night.

  The drive back to my car was uneventful. As we pulled into the parking lot, my stomach coiled with nerves wondering whether Eli would try to kiss me and what I would do if he did. Pulling my key ring out, well in advance, I slid a glance at him. But his attention was directed sharply to his left as he pulled his car into the space next to mine. Putting the Camero in park, he jumped out and stood next to his front fender. I got out, following his gaze. Straight ahead of us shimmering in the soft moonlight like an ethereal fantasy rose the silhouette of Grace Lutheran Church.

  “I think you’ve found a clue, Watson,” I said.

  “How come I’m Watson?”

  “Because that means I’m in charge.”

  At my reply, he moved around
the car to my side. Smiling, he took my keys, unlocked my door, and stood back. I tossed my purse across to the passenger side and climbed into the driver’s seat. When I was all tucked in, he moved to shut the door.

  I stopped him. Got back out. Stood there, awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say or do. Didn’t even know where to look. Talk about irony. Here I was—a competent professional woman with a career comprised of understanding emotions and conquering fears and I couldn’t make eye contact with this guy for longer than a second at a time.

  In the end, eye contact was the least of it.

  SEVENTEEN

  Awkwardness and sexual excitement can only coexist for a short time before the person spontaneously combusts, littering the surroundings with ashes and drool.

  Eli, seeing my numb yearning, reached out and curled me into the lee of his body. I’d expected kissing him would be fiery and wild. But initially, his mouth was soft, warm, seeking. His lips met mine with curiosity and exploration. I eased my body into the length of his. Heat liquefied my limbs, and I started quivering. He moved his hands to my hips, lifting, settling me on the trunk of the car, moving between my knees, kissing my neck. I lost sense of everything but the searing path of his lips.

  And that’s when the cops lit us up with their beacon light like we were the main attraction in a smutty circus ring. From their faces, we amused the hell out of them, too.

  Mortified, I nearly flung myself headfirst off the car. Eli managed to grab me around the waist, arresting my fall. It was then I realized my bra clasp had mysteriously come undone, freeing the “girls,” which were currently mashed against Eli’s arm.

  He grinned.

  After advising us to head out in tones simultaneously stern and mirth-filled, the cops left and I drove home. Alone.