Deja Dead Page 0,82
Mead reference. I gave none, but began to agree that Jewel Tambeaux was no dummy. I sensed I was being tested.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found right now.”
You may open your exam booklets.
“Maybe.”
“So what’s the problem?”
You may pick up your pencils.
“She seemed very troubled the last time I was with her. Scared, almost.”
“Troubled ’bout what, sugar?”
Ready.
“Some guy she thought was following her. Said he was strange.”
“Lot of strange ones down here, chère.”
Okay, class, begin.
I told her the whole story. As she listened, she swirled the dregs in her cup, watching the black-brown liquid intently. When I’d finished, she continued with the cup, as if scoring my answer. Then she signaled for a refill. I waited to find out my grade.
“I don’t know his name, but I most likely know who you talkin’ about. Skinny dude, personality of a mealworm. He’s strange, all right, and whatever’s ailing him ain’t no small thing. But I don’t think he’s dangerous. I doubt he’s got the brains to read a ketchup label.”
I’d passed.
“Most of us avoid him.”
“Why?”
“I’m only passing on the word from the street, ’cause I don’t do business with him myself. The guy makes my skin crawl like a gator in mud.” She grimaced and gave a small shudder. “Word is he’s got peculiar wants.”
“Peculiar?”
She put her cup on the table and looked at me, evaluating.
“He pays for it, but he doesn’t want to fuck.”
I scooped noodles from my soup and waited.
“Girl named Julie goes with him. No one else will. She’s about as smart as a runner bean, but that’s another story. She told me it’s the same show every time. They go to the room, our hero brings a paper bag with a nightie inside. Nothing kinky, lacy kinds of stuff. He watches her put it on, then tells her to lie on the bed. Okay, no big deal. Then he strokes the nightie with one hand and his dick with the other. Pretty soon he gets hard as an oil derrick and blows a gusher, grunting and groaning like he’s off in some other creation. Then he makes her take off the gown, thanks her, pays her, and leaves. Julie figures it’s easy money.”
“What makes you think this is the guy worrying my friend?”
“One time, he’s stuffing Granny’s nightie back in the ditty bag, Julie sees a big ol’ knife handle. She tells him, you want more pussy, cowboy, lose the knife. He tells her it’s his sword of righteousness or some damned thing, goes on about the knife, and his soul, and ecological balance, and crap like that. Scares the shit out of her.”
“And?”
Another shrug.
“He still around?”
“Haven’t seen him for a while, but that don’t mean much. I never did see him regular. He’d kind of drift in and drift out.”
“Did you ever talk to him?”
“Cutie, we’ve all talked to him. When he’s around he’s like a case of the drips, irritating as hell but you can’t shake it. That’s how I know he’s got the personality of roach larvae.”
“Ever see him with Gabby?” I slurped some more noodles.
She sat back and laughed. “Nice try, sugar.”
“Where could I find him?”
“Hell if I know. Wait long enough, he’ll show up.”
“How about Julie?”
“It’s a free trade zone here, chère, folks come and go. I don’t keep track.”
“Have you seen her lately?”
She gave it some thought. “Can’t say as I have.”
I studied the noodles at the bottom of the bowl and I studied Jewel. She had lifted the lid a tiny crack, allowed a peek inside. Could I raise it farther? I took the chance.
“There may be a serial killer out there, Jewel. Someone murdering women and slicing them up.”
Her expression never changed. She just looked at me, a stony gargoyle. Either she hadn’t understood, or she was dulled to thoughts of violence and pain, even death. Or perhaps she’d thrown on a mask, a facade to conceal a fear too real to validate by speech. I suspected the latter.
“Jewel, is my friend in danger?”
Our eyes locked.
“She female, chère?”
I motored my way home, letting my thoughts drift, paying little attention to my driving. De Maisonneuve was deserted, the traffic lights playing to an empty house. Suddenly, a pair of headlights appeared in my rearview mirror and bore down on me.
I crossed Peel and slid to my right to allow the vehicle to pass. The lights moved with me. I shifted back to the inner lane. The driver followed, shifting to high beam.
“Asshole.”
I sped up. The car stayed on my bumper.
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