Men Are Trouble | Page 5

Noreen patted me dry with a
threadbare towel. "She went over to the Christers last year. Maybe Jesus don't like
married women giving backrubs. Or maybe she got seeded." She gave a bitter laugh.
"Everybody does eventually."
I let that pass. "Tell me about Kate. What was she like to work with?"
"Average for the kind of help you get these sorry days." Noreen pushed at my cuticles
with an orangewood stick. "Showed up on time mostly; I could only afford to bring her in
two days a week. No go-getter, but she could follow directions. Problem was she never
really got close to the customers, always acting like this was just a pitstop. Kept to herself
mostly, which was how I could tell she was excited about getting married. It wasn't like
her to babble."
"And the bride?"
"Some Indian fluff -- Rashy or something."
"Rashmi Jones."
She nodded. "Her I never met."
"Did she go to school?"
"Must have done high school, but damned if I know where. Didn't make much of an
impression, I'd say. College, no way." She opened a drawer where a flock of colored vials
was nesting. "You want polish or clear coat on the nails?"
"No color. It's bad for business."
She leered at me. "Business is good?"
"You say she did massage for you?" I said. "Where did she pick that up?"
"Hold still now." Noreen uncapped the vial; the milky liquid that clung to the brush
smelled like super glue's evil twin. "This is fast dry." She painted the stuff onto my nails
with short, confident strokes. "Kate claimed her mom taught her. Said she used to work at
the health club at the Radisson before it closed down."
"Did the mom have a name?"
"Yeah." Noreen chewed her lower lip as she worked. "Mom. Give the other hand."
I extended my arm. "So if Kate didn't live here, where she did live?"

"Someplace. Was on her application." She kept her head down until she'd finished.
"You're done. Wave them around a little -- that's it."
After a moment, I let my arms drop to my side. We stared at each other. Then Noreen
heaved herself off the stool and led me back out to the reception room.
"That'll be a eighty cents for the manicure, fluff." She waved her desktop on. "You
planning on leaving a tip?"
I pulled out the sidekick and beamed two dollars at the desk. Noreen opened the payment
icon, grunted her approval and then opened another folder. "Says here she lives at 44 East
Washington Avenue."
I groaned.
"Something wrong?"
"I already have that address."
"Got her call too? [email protected]."
"No, that's good. Thanks." I went to the door and paused. I don't know why I needed to
say anything else to her, but I did. "I help people, Noreen. Or at least I try. It's a real job,
something bots can't do."
She just stood there, kneading the bad hip with a big, dry hand.
I unchained my bike, pedaled around the block and then pulled over. I read Kate
Vermeil's call into my sidekick. Her sidekick picked up on the sixth chirp. There was no
pix.
"You haven't reached Kate yet, but your luck might change if you leave a message at the
beep." She put on the kind of low, smoky voice that doesn't come out to play until dark. It
was a nice act.
"Hi Kate," I said. "My name is Fay Hardaway and I'm a friend of Rashmi Jones. She
asked me to give you a message about yesterday so please give me a call at
[email protected]." I wasn't really expecting her to respond, but it didn't hurt to try.
I was on my way to 44 East Washington Avenue when my sidekick chirped in the pocket
of my slacks. I picked up. Rashmi Jones's mom, Najma, stared at me from the screen with
eyes as deep as wells.
"The police came," she said. "They said you were supposed to notify them first. They
want to speak to you again."
They would. So I'd called the law after I called the mom -- they'd get over it. You don't
tell a mother that her daughter is dead and then ask her to act surprised when the cops

come knocking. "I was working for you, not them."
"I want to see you."
"I understand."
"I hired you to find my daughter."
"I did," I said. "Twice." I was sorry as soon as I said it.
She glanced away; I could hear squeaky voices in the background. "I want to know
everything," she said. "I want to know how close you came."
"I've started a report. Let me finish it and I'll bring it by later ...
"Now," she said. "I'm at school. My