44
WE WERE DRIVING on Atlantic Ave.
"You doing any juice
these days?" I said to Z.
"At Cal Wesleyan, we
called them PES," Z said. "Performance-enhancing
supplements."
"Still using?" I
said.
Z shook his
head.
"Not since Jumbo
fired me," he said.
"What made you
quit?" I said.
Z
grinned.
"A great truth was
revealed to me," Z said.
"Which
was?"
"He was my
supplier," Z said.
"How long you been
doing them?" I said.
"Freshman year," Z
said. "Playing, you know, like, majorleague college football, you
seem to need them to keep up. Guy you're competing with for the
starting job is using. The pass rushers are using. The DBs on the
other side are using."
"Who was your
supplier then?"
"One of the alums,"
Z said. "Fella named Calhoun, was paying my way, he used to get
them for me."
"Part of your
scholarship," I said.
"Scholarship, hell,"
Z said. "I was on salary."
"Don't seem to need
them," I said.
Z
nodded.
"Always been a big,
strong mofo since I was a papoose," he said.
"Papoose?" I
said.
"Authentic Injun
talk, Kemo Sabe," Z said.
"Christ," I said.
"And I'm still learning to say 'Native American.' "
We pulled up in
front of the Inn on the Wharf, where Dawn Lopata had died. The
doorman came to the car. He was a sturdy young guy, and his
nameplate said Mike. I gave him a
twenty.
"Can we talk for a
moment?" I said.
"Sure thing," Mike
said.
"Name's Spenser; I'm
working on the Dawn Lopata death," I said.
"Sure," Mike said.
"Seen you here before."
"My associate, Mr.
Sixkill," I said.
Mike nodded at
Z.
"You remember her?"
I said.
"The dead girl?
Sure," Mike said. "I mean, she wasn't so special to remember when
she came in, but then, you know, she gets killed, and everybody's
talking about it and it's on the news and you go over it in your
head . . . a lot."
"You remember when
she arrived here?"
"I do," Mike said.
"I was working early evening that week, and she came in a brand-new
bright red Caddy. I mean, I'da remembered the car even if nothing
happened. Leather interior, all the bells and whistles. Looked like
it had about ten miles on it."
"She driving?" I
said.
"No, a guy was
driving. He let her off, and she went in the hotel, and he drove
away."
"Remember the
guy?"
Mike
shrugged.
"Not much," he said.
"Suburban-looking guy. Maybe fifty. I was mostly checking out the
ride."
"Ever see her
again?"
"I was off duty when
the EMTs brought her out," Mike said. "But I hung around, so
technically, I guess yes. But she was covered."
"How 'bout the car
or the driver?"
Mike shook his
head.
"No."
"You wouldn't have a
number for the car?" I said.
"No, no reason," he
said. "Maybe if we parked it . . ."
"He didn't come back
to pick her up," I said.
"Not on my shift,"
Mike said.
"Thanks for your
time," I said.
"Hope you catch
him," Mike said.
"Hell," I said, "I
don't even know who I'm after."