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  “Curiosity.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No. It’s an attempt at levity.”

  “It’s not funny.” She thought a moment, debating whether or not to go on. “I did know one girl who knew Teddie. Eleanor Hildreth. Was in the line when Teddie was. She quit a while back, around when Teddie quit. It was all very weird.”

  “Weird?”

  “Like there was no reason for her to quit. And now the security guys are asking all kinds of questions. Weird. I don’t know anything really, but I can give you her number.”

  “I’d appreciate it. I’d also appreciate it if this meeting never happened as far as anyone else is concerned.”

  “Yes, I agree,” Jerome said. “With them asking all those questions, it’s better if our involvement isn’t known.”

  “No problem there,” said Jeanette. “I like my face.” She stared pointedly at my fat lip.

  Jerome didn’t say much on the way to the Crystal Palace. He did offer to replace the slit pants free. Business didn’t look good at his place and I told him just to stitch up the pair I had. I went to the lobby. Checked my service. No messages. Called Eleanor Hildreth. She sounded sleepy. It was noon. She invited me to come by.

  She lived in a medium-sized—maybe thirty or forty units—apartment building. Another of those flat-roofed, flat-facaded boxes painted what I can only call shit-brown. The color of an obvious narc car. She lived in the back, next to the laundry room which made a rumble of white noise in her living room, blotting out other outside sounds.

  She looked to be in her early forties. Unkempt, greasy strands of hair fell on her face and shoulders. Flowered robe and chain smoker. The lines on her face said it had seen some of life’s little joys. Jeanette had described Eleanor as being quite a beauty, although she hadn’t seen her in a couple of years. Her beauty had seen much kinder days.

  I showed her my license. “How do you know Jeanette?”

  “I’ve known her forever.” She almost sounded boozy, but she wasn’t drinking. “She went to New York, tried out for the Rockettes. Almost made it too. After a few years in the Big Apple, she came back here. I got her a job on the chorus. In less than a year they made her choreographer, then producer of the show.”

  “Why’d you quit?”

  She retreated into a protective blanket, huddled inside her robe. She didn’t want to answer.

  “Jeanette said she thought you knew Teddie Matson. Worked with her.”

  Her face was a stone mask. “I knew Teddie. That’s what you’re here for?”

  I nodded.

  “What do you know?”

  “Nothing. I’ve traced her back here. Don’t know much else.”

  “Her murder is such a shame. She was a nice girl. But hey, so was I—back then.”

  “What happened? To you? To Teddie?”

  “Jim Colbert happened.”

  Jim Talbot/Jim Colbert. Made sense. He’d kept his first name, a name he’d respond to when called by it. Phonied his last name.

  “Tell me about him.”

  “He was this punk kid. Used to hang around the shows. I guess he was old enough to get in. Had a thing for the girls in the line, especially coloreds, know what I mean?”

  “He had his eye on Teddie?”

  “More than his eye.”

  “Did they go together?”

  “For about two weeks. But she thought he was too weird. Broke it off. He wouldn’t stop coming around. Kept sending her candy, flowers.”

  “Orchids?”

  “Yes. He liked to impress the girls by buying expensive things.”

  “Did he ever give Teddie a teddy bear.”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “You said he wouldn’t stop coming around.”

  “He’d hang out by the stage door. That kinda thing. Nothing dangerous.”

  “Did he ever do anything dangerous?”

  “Teddie only worked a few months. After she left, he tried to find her. Write her. Couldn’t get anyone to give him the information, so he eventually forgot about her, lit on another girl. Domino. That was her real name. Domino, can you imagine? I don’t know where black folks get the names of their kids.”

  I figured when Colbert saw Teddie on TV it rekindled his spark for her, if it had ever truly dimmed. He got the bright idea of hiring a dick. He knew the show was filmed in L.A. She had to be there. So he came to me.

  “How long did he go with Domino?”

  “Not long. A little longer than Teddie. Maybe a month. Then she broke it off. He just came on too strong. Anyone could see. He wasn’t for her, or Teddie. They were just kids. I was a few years older than them. Hell, I’m only thirty-four now. You wouldn’t know it looking at me.”

  “Do you know where I can reach Domino?”

  “Sure do. She lives in Sparks, 1715 Del Gado Boulevard”

  “Near here?”

  “Not too far.”

  “Phone number?”

  “She doesn’t have one. Doesn’t need it. That’s the address of the Del Gado Cemetery.”

  CHAPTER 34

  “What was it about him that the girls couldn’t stand after a week or two?”

  “He was smothering.” Her eyes glazed over as she left the present and ran a movie memory of it all from a long time ago.

  “In more ways than one,” I said, figuring she’d get the implication.

  “He wanted all of their time. Day and night. To be with them. It’s not like he was evil. At least not then. But he was sort of—nerdy. Nice guy nerdy. They liked him. But he wouldn’t let go. Called them all the time. A hundred times a day. At least it seemed like it. Wanted them to spend every minute with him. Just wanted everything they had and more. And he was jealous. I know he asked Teddie to quit the line. He didn’t like all those men in the audience looking at her.”

  “Did he know she was from L.A.?”

  “I think so. I’m not sure.”

  “I’m curious why he didn’t follow her if he was so in love with her—follow her to L.A..”

  “I don’t know.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I think he thought he’d try his luck with Domino. I don’t know if it was the actual person that counted or the idea of her.”

  “What happened with Domino?”

  “She wanted to break it off. It bruised his fragile male ego I guess. He stalked her, wouldn’t leave her alone. He caught her backstage one day. Chased her into the catwalks. They fought. She fell and died—a bloody mess.” She drummed a nervous beat with her foot. “Everybody knew it was murder, but because of the way it went down it could be interpreted differently.”

  “The hotel covered it up?”

  “Didn’t want the bad publicity. Nice folks.”

  “So if anyone comes around asking questions—”

  “They take it into their own hands.”

  “It’d come out sooner or later.”

  “No, not with these people. They keep everything inside the family—if you know what I mean.”

  “Didn’t you or anyone else put two and two together when you heard about Teddie’s death?”

  “My math isn’t very good. ’Sides, you live around here long enough you learn to leave things alone if you want to be left alone.”

  “What happened with you? Why’d you quit?” I wanted to ask, why’d you age beyond your years? Didn’t.

  “Teddie was a friend of mine. So was Domino. It was just too much. That and the pressure. Having to look perfect every goddamn second. Painted on smiles and kissing customers’ asses even when they treated you like shit. Made you feel worthless. But I got back at ’em. All of ’em. I’m on disability now. They can pay me for the rest of my life.”

  I figured her disability was a payoff from the hotel, but there was no point bringing it up.

  “Anyone else know Teddie or Domino?”

  “Most of the girls are gone and I wouldn’t advise you bothering the ones in the line now. ’
Sides, I’ve lost touch with them. No numbers. No nothing. At least they ain’t in the Del Gado Cemetery.”

  “Did the hotel pay off Domino’s family?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why did Colbert like black girls?”

  “Black, brown, green. Didn’t matter.”

  “But no whites?”

  “Not that I saw. But I don’t know why he liked them. Maybe he didn’t feel good enough for a white woman.” She snorted a laugh. Jack would have appreciated her thought. What did it mean about Colbert?

  “He from around here?”

  “Colbert? Far as I know. I think he’s from Sparks. He left town though. I mean, he could be back, but I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “That was part of the deal. Get outta town, and the cops and D.A. look the other way. Hotel’s big enough to pull that kinda weight.”

  I asked if I could borrow her phone book. Looked up Colbert. There were a handful. I gave her ten bucks and started making calls. None of the Colberts admitted knowing Jim.

  “No luck?” she said, offering me a box of saltine crackers.

  “No.”

  “There’s an odd dude might know Jim Colbert. Collects bottles and cans and any other junk he can find. I think he used to be a friend of Jim’s or something. Funny to call it a bicycle when it has three wheels, but it’s hard to imagine a grown man riding a tricycle. That’s for three year olds, isn’t it?”

  “Where does he live?”

  “I don’t know. But you can’t miss him.”

  I remembered seeing him on my way into Reno. It had to be the same guy.

  “Just hit the highways. You’re bound to run into him sooner or later.”

  “Any idea which roads he favors?”

  “Nope.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “People ’round here just call him Lobo.”

  I gassed up the car. Hit the road. Since I’d seen him on my way into town from the south that’s where I headed. After driving two hours out, I turned around and headed back. Made a couple detours on side roads. No luck. Next I ventured east, only going one hour out. That was sixty miles. Hard to imagine Lobo pedaling more than sixty miles in a day. Of course, he might not have lived in Reno, but somewhere outside. Anyway, it was the same thing. No sign of Lobo within an hour of town.

  South. East. I then hit the roads to the north of Reno and Sparks. Heat waves shimmied up from the ground, dancing on air. An hour out of town, I hit a greasy spoon diner, its parking lot filled with trucks. The greaseburger hit the spot. And stayed there. I asked the waitress behind the counter if she knew Lobo. She did. Had she seen him today? She hadn’t.

  A trucker with snakeskin cowboy boots, a ten and a half gallon hat and three day growth of beard turned to me and asked, “Lookin’ for Lobo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Law?”

  “No. Private investigator. I’m trying to see if he’s the relative of a client.” I flashed my ID.

  “I saw him out on Highway 80 about an hour ago. Heading for the interchange with 95.”

  “Thanks.” I plopped down enough money to pay for my meal and his.

  Golden hour hit the desert like a spray of falling rain—bright specks of dust floating in the air. A rainbow of gold dust. Warm jasmine waves of sun lending the scene a soothing surreal quality. No sign of Lobo on 80. I headed out a little farther. Nothing. U-turned. On the way back I saw a silhouette at the junction of 80 and 95. Pulled over. It was the same grizzled guy I’d seen on my way up here. From what people had said it had to be Lobo.

  “Howdy,” he said. Looked about fifty to fifty-five give or take a handful of years. I wasn’t so proud of my age-guessing ability after being so wrong about Eleanor. Hell, Lobo might have been thirty or seventy. I settled for fifty.

  “Hi.”

  “Need directions?”

  “Not really. You Lobo?”

  “Lookin’ for me? Hardly anybody comes lookin’ for me. What can I do for you?” He squinted into the setting sun, his hand on his brow, Indian-style.

  “I understand that you knew Jim Colbert.”

  His mouth narrowed to an angry gash. He backed away toward his bike. Opened a saddle bag, tossed in a couple Dos Equis cans he’d been picking out of the scree when I approached him. Closed the bag, straddled the seat. He didn’t look in the mood for conversation.

  “Don’t go, please. I’ll only have to follow you and I don’t want to wear out my new shoes.”

  He settled into the seat, resigned to not leaving. “Whadda you want?”

  “It’s obvious from your reaction that you know him.”

  “Jim Colbert. Junior or senior?”

  “I don’t know. I’d guess he’s in his mid- to late-twenties.”

  A dejected shake of his head. “Junior. What do you want him for?”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  “I figured someone’d be askin’ about him sooner or later.” He reached onto the crossbar of his bike, took a plastic bottle filled with green liquid from it. Swigged. He offered the bottle to me. I declined. He got off the bike. Nestled himself into a rock, stared into the sun. It looked almost as if he was trying to burn his retinas.

  “Shouldn’t look into the sun like that. It’ll hurt your eyes.”

  “Doesn’t matter. They’ve seen too much anyway.”

  “Tell me about Jim Colbert, junior.”

  “He was a good kid. Never got into trouble or anything. I guess he musta been holding it all inside.”

  “Holding what inside.”

  “I don’t know. Never did learn. Anyway, he liked a couple girls in the chorus over at the Palace. I’m sure you know the story.”

  “I know a little of it. Why don’t you fill me in?”

  He did, without adding much to what I already knew.

  “Why didn’t he follow Teddie to L.A.?”

  “I don’t think he had her L.A. address. Never needed it. She was here. And when she decided to leave she wouldn’t give it to him and neither would any of the girls in the chorus. I seem to remember he started out to L.A., got all the way to Bakersfield and then turned around. Came back. Never did know why. That’s when he started dating that Domino girl.”

  “Do you know why he liked women of color?”

  “Why are you looking for him?”

  “It’s confidential.”

  “If I’m to give you any more information I think I have the right to know what this is all about. And if you don’t give me the truth, I’ll clam up. I promise you that.”

  I decided to tell him. “I think he may have murdered Teddie Matson.”

  The angry gash opened a tad. The anger replaced by sadness. “When I heard about that, I wondered if it could have been him. Do you have any proof?”

  “Someone saw a man fitting his description at the scene. If it’s him they can identify him. If not, he’s got nothing to worry about.” It wasn’t necessary to tell him I’d also seen him. Aided and abetted him.

  “Is it because of what happened here?”

  “I didn’t even know about that when I first learned about him.” I sat down on a rock across from him, staring at the endless landscape of sage and juniper, figuring it would make him more comfortable if I wasn’t standing over him.

  “I knew Jim from a long way back. Farther back than most of his friends and such.” He took a deep swallow of air. Just watching him made my throat dry. “His mother was black. You wouldn’t know it to look at him. Or her. She was very light-skinned. You could hardly tell if you didn’t look very closely at her features. She died when he was a kid. Around seven. I think his seeking out black and brown women was his attempt to deal with losing her.”

  “Tell me about Pilar Cruz.” It was a long shot, but what did I have to lose.

  “She was another of his crushes.” His voice was guttural, hoarse. Filled with desert wind and sand. He took another swig of the green liquid. “She came up here for a summer. The
y met in some summer acting program at the local high school. This was before Teddie even. And it was the same story with her. He fell all over her, head over heels. Suffocated her with good intentions and love. He just couldn’t see that it was too much for anyone else to want. He thought they wanted all that attention. He thought if he lavished them with it they would be his forever. He didn’t know that people need space. Freedom.” He waved his hand at the expanse of high desert valley, surrounded by snow-capped mountains. “I think the rejection, from Pilar, Teddie, Domino, and a couple others, got to him, especially on top of his feeling rejected by his mother. Wasn’t her fault. She took ill with pneumonia and died.”

  The sun began to sink over the mountains in the distance. Red, orange and magenta ribbons of light spread out along the horizon. Golden hour was done for and twilight settled over the highway.

  “Do you have a current address for him?”

  “I have an address I can give you. Haven’t heard from him in some time though.”

  “How long is that?”

  “Several weeks at least. We used to write pretty regularly.” He pulled a grimy notebook from the back of his faded corduroy pants. Pulled a piece of paper from it. Copied the address from the paper onto another sheet, tore it out and gave it to me. It was a Santa Barbara address. I’d hit it on the way back to L.A. “Y’know, I used to think it was nice of the hotel to hush things up and get Jimmy off without any trouble. It’s Nevada you know. Mob ties and all that. They bought off the girl’s family. But I don’t think so anymore. At the very least he should have gotten some kind of psychiatric help. I’m sorry about that now.”

  There was no point in commenting to him that it was too late.

  “I hope you find him,” he said. “But be gentle. He’s a good kid at heart.”

  “I’ll do my best, Mr. Colbert.”

  He looked up when I said his name. That was confirmation enough. That and the same piercing blue eyes, the nervous demeanor.

  It looked like he was crying. It was hard to tell in the dim light.

  I closed out my account at the Edsel, gathered my things. Met Jerome outside the Crystal Palace. He gave me a new pair of suit pants. Said he’d ruined the others trying to stitch them up. I didn’t believe him, offered him money for the new pants. He wouldn’t take it. I thanked him and headed out of town.