‘I’m bein’ paid under the counter, fifty bucks. I’m not paid to do anythin’ else, just see if there was anyone who saw her that night, saw the john that picked her up. I don’t want to know anythin’ else. Help me. Why don’t you help me? Come on, man, she was your girl.’
Curtis leaned against the wall and, to her astonishment, started to cry. Lorraine moved closer. ‘She was picked up last time you saw her near Didi and Nula’s patch, that right?’ He nodded. She asked if he had seen anything, asked why Holly had been working the transsexual patch. He sniffed, wiping his face with the back of his hand. ‘She’d had a fight further up the strip, that’s all I know. She’d had this fight and we’d been talkin’, she said she wanted to move further down the strip, I was sortin’ it for her. I never got to tell her I really cared—’
‘Now’s your chance to make it up to her, Curtis. If you hear anything, know anybody that saw anything, will you contact me?’
‘I don’t work for cops.’
‘I’m not a cop.’
She made him write her telephone number on the back of his hand. Then he walked off down the alley.
Lorraine sighed. She was about to walk back the way she came when it hit her.
‘Freeze.’
The boy ran on, his Superman stripe lit up in the neon lights.
‘Freeze.’
He didn’t turn because he hadn’t even heard her, because it wasn’t a gun in his hand but a Sony Walkman.
Sweat broke out all over her body. Her mouth felt dry and rancid. All she could think of was getting a drink. She started to run, back up the alley, along the strip, banging into passers-by, her whole body aching, her brain screaming for a drink. ‘No, no, I won’t, don’t do it, don’t do it, just keep walking, keep walking.’ A lethal, whispering voice repeated over and over, ‘You killed the poor kid, he wasn’t involved, you emptied your gun into a litde kid’s back. How does that make you feel, you drunken bitch? You killed him.’
Lorraine walked until the panic attack subsided. She sat on a wall, gasping for breath, waiting for her heart to slow down. She knew what she had done, but refused to face it. She had never faced it.
‘You okay?’ Didi limped towards her. ‘You ran right past me like you’d seen a ghost.’
‘I did. I was just running from a drink.’
Didi laughed, understanding. ‘Well, if you’re okay I guess I’d better get a move on.’
‘No, please, I need to ask you something, about the night Holly died. Please just wait.’
Didi hobbled closer. ‘Listen, I don’t know nothin’, I didn’t see nothin’ and I don’t know why I’m talkin’ to you. We had cops asking questions, we can’t get a shoot together, we’re broke, all down to you.’
Lorraine faced her out. ‘I’m not a cop. I was once but so long ago even I can’t remember it. I’ve been hookin’ for years and drunk for as many, you know that.’
Didi pursed her lips. ‘Once one, always one.’
Lorraine caught hold of Didi’s sleeve. She gripped her hand, feeling the heavy ring on Didi’s finger. ‘Please just tell me about the guy. The one Nula said you saw. He picked her up right on your patch.’
‘I don’t remember nothin’, not even that night, they’re all the same to me.’
‘Come on, Didi, it was the night you got beat up. Did you see the john that picked her up, see his car?’
Didi shrugged. ‘Maybe. Nula’s been talkin’ to you, has she?’
‘Yeah, and Curtis. They both want to help me, so please, just tell me what happened that night.’
Didi told Lorraine almost the same story as Nula — how the car had cruised down the road, stopped, driven on, how Holly had run across the road and got into the passenger seat.
‘You think he really wanted maybe you or Nula?’
‘If he did we’re lucky then, aren’t we?’
‘Close your eyes and think, Didi. Was he dark, blond, balding? Think about him.’
Didi tried but her mind was blank.
‘Did he wear glasses, kind of rimless, pinkish-lensed glasses?’ Lorraine prompted.
‘Yeah, yeah, maybe he did.’
‘Was his mouth wide, wet? Did he have a crew-cut? Short-haired, blondish hair?’
‘Yeah, yeah, that’s right.’
‘He never cruised by you before?’
‘I remember anyone that’s near to a regular, darlin’. I’d never seen this guy.’
Lorraine cocked her head to one side. ‘You’re not holding anythin’ out on me, are you? You’re not just saying, yeah, yeah, because that’s what I said?’
‘Why would I do that? He kind of fitted the description you said but it was a while ago. Listen, I knew Holly, and like everybody else round here, we’d like that piece of shit put away, right?’
‘If you think of anything, will you call me?’
Didi nodded and limped off to earn her night’s cash.
Lorraine arrived home to find a note from Rosie saying Rooney had called and she had gone to a meeting. Rooney was not at the station so she called his home. When she got through he sounded hoarser than ever, she could hear his heavy rasping breathing. ‘You can go see Fellows now, he’s expecting you — and I’m expecting somethin’ soon for my dough, understand?’
Lorraine fixed some food, stuffed vitamins down herself and, a little refreshed, left the apartment.
Rosie, meanwhile, had returned to Janklow’s house on Beverly Glen. At night it was easier to park and remain semi-hidden. She pulled out the camera, double-checked the instruction manual and then took a few practice shots. She heard a car come up the hill behind her and stop in front of the barred gates. It was the Mercedes. Crouching, Rosie inched up over the front seat. ‘Come on, you bastard, get out of the car, lemme get a good shot.’
The driver opened the gates by remote control, never looking in Rosie’s direction. She could see the glint of his glasses but nothing more — the top of his head was hidden by the roof of the car. The gates closed behind him as he drove up to the house. Rosie got out and, still carrying the camera and keeping close to the hedges, made her way cautiously towards the gates, hoping to get a second shot as he got out of the car to go into the house. She fiddled and muttered, the zoom lens was loose, and by the time she had it tightened the man was inside.
Rosie returned to the car. She’d tried, she told herself. As she turned on the ignition, the engine coughed and died. She tried again, it coughed, spluttered and then died again with a low, whirring sound. ‘Oh, fuck it!’ She tried another three times to start it but the ominous whirring sound grew fainter and she was miles away from the main road. She got out and started to walk.
The road she was in was badly lit, so she kept to the centre as much as possible. Two cars passed her going down the Glen and, even though she stuck out her thumb, they didn’t stop. Her feet were aching and she was working up quite a sweat. She wished she’d locked the camera in the trunk; it was heavy and the strap cut into her shoulder.
When Rosie reached the main road, she was past caring about Janklow or anything else. She was hungry and it was getting chilly. She heard a car behind her and looked up to the traffic light. The ‘Walk’ sign was blinking and she reckoned she’d never make it across the wide road before it blinked off, so she hovered at the kerb. The Mercedes paused at the red light just as Rosie realized it was the car. She fumbled with the camera and made out she was taking a shot of the sign ‘Hollywood Stars’ Homes Maps Here’. She had the bonnet of the car in focus just as the lights changed to green, and then the car moved off. It was not a man driving, but a blonde woman, wearing dark glasses, a silk scarf wrapped round her throat.