"No, but I'm glad you're with me." She twisted on her hip, and slouched back, looking at me. No remorse, no bewilderment. Just curiosity.
"What time is it?"
I said, "After midnight. Want to go home?"
"No."
"Want to take a walk, then?"
"Yes. Can I take off my shoes and walk in the sand?"
"Take off everything if you want to."
"Maybe I will when we get down on the beach, Mike."
"Don't do anything of the kind. I'm too damn susceptible."
It was pretty good strolling down that narrow lane, jumping the cracks in the sidewalk and making faces at the moon. Lola slipped her hand into mine and it was warm and soft, but holding tight as though I was something worth holding on to. I was remembering what Red said about guys like me never having to pay, and I wondered how true it was.
She took off her shoes like she wanted to and walked in the sand, kicking at mounds with her toes. When we reached the bulkhead we jumped down and walked to the water, and I took off my shoes too. It was cold, but it was nice, too nice to spoil by talking yet, and we waded up the beach, stepping up the wooden jetties and jumping to the other side, until there was nothing left but straight sandy beach, and even the houses were in the background.
"I like it here, Mike," she said. She let go my hand and picked up a clamshell, looking at it as if it were a rare specimen. I put my arm around her and we stepped out of the water that licked at our feet and walked to the rolling hillocks of the dunes. After we sat down I handed her a cigarette, and in the light of the flame I saw that her face had changed and was at peace with itself.
"Cold?" I asked.
"A little chilly. I haven't much on under the dress."
I didn't question it; I just gave her my coat, then leaned back on my elbows while she hugged her knees, staring out at the ocean.
When she took a long last drag on the cigarette she turned around and said, "Why did you bring me out here, Mike?"
"To talk. I need somebody to talk to."
She leaned back on the sand. "My mind's unfogging, Mike," she said. "Was it about Nancy?"
I nodded.
"She's dead, Mike. I liked her, too."
"Who killed her?"
There was a long moment of silence while Lola searched my face. "You're a cop, aren't you?"
"A private dick. And I'm not hired by anybody, either."
"And you think she was murdered instead of being killed by a hit-and-run driver."
"Lola, I don't know what to think. Everything's going around in circles right now. Let's say I didn't like the way she died."
"Mike... what if I said I thought she was murdered, too?"
I jumped at that. "What makes you think so?"
"Oh, I don't know. Lots of things, maybe. If she wasn't murdered, she was killed accidentally before she could be murdered. Let's say that, Mike."
I turned on my side and my hand covered hers. The moonlight on the white V of the plunging neckline made it hard to concentrate. Her skin was white and smooth, in sharp contrast to the black satin. The only thing I could think of was the kind of bra she would be wearing under a dress like that. It would have to be an engineering marvel.
"How did you get to know her, Lola?"
Her answer was simple enough. "We worked together."
"You?" It didn't seem right.
"Don't I look the type?"
"Maybe... if a guy had dough and a convertible and was looking for an interesting sideline in life. But not down in that section. What were you doing there?"
"I worked in a house up the street."
"I thought all the girls were killed in the fire."
"They were, but I wasn't there at the time. I was... in a hospital. I had been there quite a while. I left today."
She looked at the sand and traced two letters in it--V.D.
"That's why I was in the hospital. That's why I was working down there instead of playing for guys with dough and convertibles. I had that once and lost it. I'm not very smart, am I, Mike?"
"No," I told her, "you're not. Anybody can do what you're doing and make a living at it. You never had to go in for that, neither did Nancy. There's no excuse for it. No matter what happens, there's only one way you wind up. No, Lola, there's no excuse for it."
"Sometimes there is."
She ran her fingers through my hair, then dropped her hand to cover mine. "Maybe that's why Nancy and I were so close... because there was some excuse for it. I was in love, Mike... terribly in love with a guy who was no damn good. I could have had anybody I wanted, but no, I had to fall for a guy who was no damn good at all. We were going to get married when he ran away with a two-bit bum who hung around all the saloons in town. I was pretty disgusted, I guess. If that was all men wanted I figured on playing the game. I played it pretty good, too. After that I had everything, but I never fell for anybody.
"At first I was bitter about it, but living became too easy. I had something men wanted, and they were willing to supply the overhead charges. It got so good that it wasn't worth while playing one sucker at a time. Then one day I met a smart girl who introduced me to the right people, and after that the dates were supplied and I made plenty of money, and had a lot of time to spend it in, too.
"I had a name and phone number, and if they had the dough all they had to do was call. That's why they called us call-girls. The suckers paid plenty, but they got what they wanted and were safe. Then one day I got drunk and slipped up. After that I wasn't safe to be with any more and the suckers complained, and they took away my name and my phone number, so all I had left was to go on the town.
"There's always people looking for left-overs like me. One got me set with an outfit that had a house and a vacancy and I worked there, then they set me down a couple of notches until I wound up in the place where I met Nancy. Most of the girls in the racket just drifted into it, that's why Nancy and I became friends. She had a reason for being there, too. It wasn't the same reason, but it was a reason and it put us above the others.
"One day I got smart. I pulled out of it and went to the hospital. When I was there Nancy was killed, and when I got back to the house it was burned. I came back to get Nancy, but she was gone, and she was the only friend I had left, so I went down to Barney's and got drunk."
"Where you made a very professional pass at me."
"I didn't mean to, Mike. I was drunk and I couldn't get out of the habit, I guess. Forgive me?"
When she turned the neckline fell away and I was ready to forgive her for anything. But first there was more I had to find out.
"Nancy... what about Nancy... did she follow the same route you did? About working her way down the ladder, I mean."
"It happens to the best of them sooner or later, Mike. Yes, Nancy was a call-girl too, only she had made the grade before me."
"And did she have to go to the hospital, too?"
A puzzled frown tugged at her forehead. "No, that was the strange part about it. She was very careful. First she was in the big money, then suddenly she quit it all and dropped out of sight. She was for ever running into people that hadn't seen her for a long time, and it frightened her. She stayed in the business as though it were a place to hide."
"Hiding from what?"
"I never found out. Those were things you didn't ask about."
"Did she have anything worth hiding?"
"If she did I didn't see it, though she was mighty secretive about her personal belongings. The only expensive thing she had was a camera, an imported affair that she used when she had a job once. You know, taking pictures of couples on the street and handing them a card. They would send the card in with a quarter and get their picture."
"When was that... recently?"
"Oh, no, quite some time ago. I happened to see some of the cards she had left over and asked about them. I think the name was QUICK PIC... or something like that."