Four

Everything coordinated—and I hated it. Black A-line skirt, light gray blouse with matching pumps, dark jacket, and pearls at my neck and on my ears. Minimal makeup applied, I fluffed my hair from habit. And all for what? Nothing can make you feel good about going to your best friend’s funeral.

Pocket check—plenty of tissues.

The church service was brief. The funeral procession wound its way through the streets of East Bakersfield—from the family church on Oswell Street until it reached Greenlawn Cemetery. The graveside service was difficult. Lots of crying, sobbing and sad faces. I hugged Donna and her parents before the lowering of the casket and then left.

I didn’t bother to lower Patsy’s top. I switched on the a/c and pointed her toward a small bar I knew on Columbus Street. Going into a drunken stupor to forget was not my goal. I didn’t want to forget; I just wanted to cope.

The lounge was nearly empty—customers at two tables and a guy at the bar. I took a seat in the far corner and ordered a White Russian. Neon signage provided most of the lighting. The blinking beer sign behind the bar irritated me—probably just me. I didn’t remember it having bothered me before. The overhead fan did little more than rearrange the stuffy air.

I sipped my drink and nibbled on the pretzels from the bowl on the table. My eyes stared blindly at the ceiling as I tried to collect my thoughts.

“Mind if I join you?”

The unexpected voice startled me. I lowered my line of sight and saw Ron Matthews gazing at me. Thick brown hair, somewhat curly, and a squared jaw framed a Chippendale face. His eyes could make emeralds jealous. They perfectly matched his open-collar shirt. Knowing him as I did, that was no accident.

“Oh. Hi, Ron.” I was in no mood for socializing, yet I didn’t want to appear rude, especially to an old friend. “How are ya?” My monotone voice couldn’t have sounded inviting.

“Doin’ great. And you?”

“Not so great.”

“If you’d rather, I’ll just move on and ….”

“No, please. Have a seat if you’d like. But I may not be very good company.”

He pulled out the other chair at the small table and eased himself into it. I’d known Ron several years. We’d dated a few times, but no significant sparks—at least on my side. He was a lot of fun, but for some reason we just didn’t click in the romance department. Not that I would have minded a few sparks.

When the waitress came by, Ron ordered a Bud Light and then shifted his attention back to me.

“Anything you want to talk about? Or should we just pass on that?”

“I just came from my best friend’s funeral. It hurts and I’m angry as hell. I’m not sure what to say beyond that.”

“The shooting at that bistro over on Ming Avenue the other day? It was all over the local stations.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry. Like I said, if you’d ...”

“I don’t know what I want.” I nursed another sip of the White Russian over my lips. Contrary to what I’d anticipated, I found Ron’s company inexplicably comforting.

The waitress brought Ron’s beer and he handed her a five-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“Got anything planned for the afternoon?” he asked before he raised the bottle to his lips.

“In a couple of hours, I’m headed to Las Vegas and I dread it. There’s a lot of desert between here and there. Too much time for too much thinking.”

“Vegas, huh?”

“Yeah, Vegas. I’ve got some business there. And it doesn’t involve slots, blackjack or craps. It’s a new case I picked up recently. I need to find somebody.”

The corners of his mouth turned upward. “Your last trip there was pretty sweet.”

“Like I said, this trip is legit business.”

“Where ya staying?”

“Gonna check out the Players Choice. I don’t have reservations, but maybe they’ll have a room available.”

“What a coincidence. I have a room booked there tomorrow night and Saturday night. Maybe we’ll run into each other. Maybe we can hang out a little bit. That would be pretty cool.”

“Yeah, it would. I’ll look for you.” I forced a smile. I took another sip of my drink and then pushed it aside. “Appreciate the visit, but gotta go; got some packing to do. Sorry I wasn’t better company.”

“You’re always good company. Sorry about your friend.”

“Thanks.”

I guided Patsy west on Columbus Street and made my way across town. I exited southbound Highway 99 onto westbound Hosking Avenue. Ron’s visit smoothed some of the rough edges from my day—a pleasant surprise in the midst of my agony. My house was just off Sycamore Creek Drive—very nice but far short of a palace.

Linda greeted me at the door. “Good afternoon.”

Linda Sears had been my part-time maid and all around helper since I bought the house. Like me, she had no husband or steady boyfriend. She was twenty-three and very pretty, yet I don’t recall her ever having mentioned a date.

She came three days a week to clean and tidy up everything. Award-winning housekeeping has never been my strong suit. She’d been off three days and I was happy to see her.

Linda was a work-out nut. Her wide shoulders narrowed to a trim waist. She was strong as an ox and could outrun a fast-moving train. I guessed her about an inch shorter than my five-nine frame.

I pulled the door closed behind us. “Hi. Good to see you.”

“Same here.” She set her dust rag aside. “Are you okay? I know this has to be very difficult.”

“No, I’m not okay. But I’ll find a way to get through it.” I took a second or two to calm myself. “I’m going to pack a bag. I’m off to Las Vegas in an hour or so.”

“Vegas?” Linda knew my feelings about going back there.

“Yes, Las Freaking Vegas. My new client needs me there to do some looking around for them. Maybe it’ll keep my mind off Alice’s death—God knows I need something to keep me busy. Anyway, wish me luck. And no, not that kind of luck.”

“I hope it all works out. Good luck.”

“Do you think you could stay here while I’m gone? You know, just to keep an eye on things.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. Just so you know, the lawn service will be here tomorrow. Make sure they do a good job.”

“No problem.”

In less than twenty minutes, I was packed and ready to go. Pulling my luggage behind me, I targeted the front door as Linda exited the den.

“Thanks again. Feel free to call if you need anything.”

“I will.” Linda followed me out the door and gave me a hug.

I tossed my single piece of luggage in the back seat and then angled myself behind Patsy’s steering wheel. I left the top up. The heat and sun from the Mojave Desert is brutal. Even with a convertible, there’s a time and place for air conditioning.

As I picked up Highway 58 en route to Barstow, then Interstate 5 to Vegas, my mind spiraled into a black hole of confusion, sorrow and fear. I was normally very organized and confident. At the moment, I could barely remember my first and last names and in which order they went. God help me—I was a total mess.

This ain’t going to be pretty.

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