Jonathan Kellerman - Flesh And Blood

She lifted the sleeve, let it fall. “Becoming a freak didn’t help my self-image, but I get by. You can always find some guy who digs… Like I’m talking to someone who cares.”

Reaching into a pocket of the robe, she pulled out a cigarette. No pack, just a loose cigarette; easier access with one arm. Milo was quick to light it for her.

“A gentleman.” She sucked smoke. “So who offed Lauren?”

“That’s the big question, Michelle.”

The brown eyes narrowed. “You really don’t know?”

“That’s why we’re here.”

“Aw,” she said. “And here I was thinking it was my technique brought you over. Well, I sure can’t tell you. Lauren and I – we went different ways. I thought she was getting it together. Back when we were dancing and working together, I always thought she had a better chance of getting it together.”

“Why’s that?”

“First, like I said, she was smart. Second, she never got into dope in any big way. Had no jones for men either. She never got attached to anyone, let them get their hooks into her. Tell the truth, she was really kind of a nun – know what I mean?”

“Not a party girl,” said Milo.

“Not a party girl,” Michelle repeated. “Even when she was partying, her real head was somewhere else, you know? It’s like no matter what we did, and we did some shit, believe me, she was like… doing something but really not doing it, you know?”

“Detached,” I said.

“Yeah. At first it used to bug me. I used to worry some customer would pick up on it and that would screw the whole deal – kill the fantasy, you know? ’Cause all they want – customers – is to be God for five minutes. And I knew Lauren – no matter what she was doing – thought the customers were pieces of shit. At first I thought she was this snotty bitch with a I’m-too-good-for-it vibe, you know? Then I realized it was just her way of getting through the night, and I came to respect her for that. And I tried it myself.”

She tossed her hair. “Being detached. I could never pull it off. Not without chemical help. That made me admire Lauren – like she had some special talent. Like she was going places. Now, look.”

She studied me. “You’re not a cop.”

I glanced at Milo. He nodded.

“I’m a psychologist. I knew Lauren years ago.”

“Oh,” she said. “You’re the one – what’s your name – Del-something?”

“Delaware.”

“Yeah, she talked about you, said you tried to help her when she was a kid, she was too messed up to work with you. Did she come see you again? She said she was thinking of it.”

“When was this?” I said.

“Last time I saw her – five months ago.”

“No, she didn’t. Her mother called me when she went missing.”

“Missing?”

“She was gone for a week before we found her,” said Milo. “Left her car in the garage, took no luggage, didn’t tell anyone. Looks like she had an appointment with someone who got mean. Any idea who?”

“I thought she got out of the job.”

“She told you that?”

“Yeah, said she was back in school, wanted to be a shrink. I said, ‘Girl, you look like nothing but a yuppie bitch right now, so why bother?’ and she laughed. Then I told her to keep studying, and when she figured out why men are so fucked up, let me know.”

“You and she must’ve met some real sweethearts,” said Milo. “Back when you were working.”

“You forget ’em,” said Michelle. “Faces and dicks – one big picture that you rip up and throw out. I saw enough fat asses and melon bellies to last me halfway through hell.”

“What was working for Gretchen like?”

“Gretchen.” Her face hardened. “Gretchen’s got no heart. She fired me – I’m not going to have anything good to say about her.”

“What about dangerous types, Michelle? Customers you wouldn’t see a second time?”

“Anyone’s dangerous, given the right situation.”

“Did you and Lauren ever have any close calls?”

“Us? Nah. It was boring: bring your knee pads and fake out that you love to swallow, same old same old. Guys thinking they’re in charge – meanwhile we knew they were pathetic.”

“Why’d Gretchen fire you?” said Milo.

“She claimed I wasn’t reliable. So I was late a few times, so what – we’re not talking brain surgery. What does it matter if you show up five minutes late?”

“What about Lauren? How’d she and Gretchen get along?”

She inhaled and smiled around a cloud of smoke. “Lauren handled Gretchen – kissed up to her and did her job and was reliable . Then she quit on Gretchen. That was a switch.”

“When’d she quit?”

“Must’ve been… three, four years ago.”

“How’d Gretchen react to that?”

“I never heard one way or the other.”

“That the kind of thing make Gretchen mad?”

“Nah, Gretchen never got mad – never showed any feeling. Like I said, no heart. Cut her up and you’ll find one of those computer thingies – slickon chip, whatever.”

“Lauren ever have any steady clients? Someone who really liked her and was willing to pay for it? Someone she was seeing recently?”

“Nope. Lauren hated every one of them. Basically, I think she hated men.”

“Did she like women?”

Michelle laughed. “As in, Eat-me, girlfriend? Nah. We did doubles, playacted all the time, but basically Lauren wasn’t into it. Switched off – what you said: detached.”

“Why’d she quit Gretchen?” said Milo.

“She told me she saved up enough money, and I believed her. When she came by to tell me, she looked great, was carrying this little computer-”

“Laptop?”

“Yeah, she said it was for school. And she had real great clothes on – better than usual. I mean, Lauren was always into clothes. Gretchen made us buy our own shit, and Lauren always knew where to get the good stuff cheap – she used to do some modeling down at the Fashion Mart, knew all the bargains. But this time she was wearing the real thing – Thierry Mugler pantsuit, black, like poured over her. And a pair of Jimmy Choo pumps. Back then I was living in a real dump, over in Highland Park, told her, Girl, you are taking your life in your hands coming around like that, dressed like that. She said she could handle herself, showed me…”

She trailed off, smoked some more.

“Showed you what?” said Milo.

“Protection.”

“She was carrying?” said Milo.

“Yeah, this little shooter – silver thing, kind of pretty, that fit in her purse along with the spray. I said, ‘Whoa, what’s that – school supplies?’ She said, ‘A girl can’t be too careful.’ ”

“Did she seem afraid of anything?”

“Nah, she was real casual about it. Not that that means much. Lauren was never much of a talker – you just didn’t push it with her.”

“So she came by to tell you she’d quit.”

“That and she gave me some money. That was the first time she brought me money-”

“Seven hundred?”

“Something like that – maybe five. It was usually between five and seven.”

“How often did she help you out?”

“Every few months. Sometimes she’d just slip it under the door and I’d find it when I woke up. She never made me feel like scum for taking it. She had a way of – She had class, should’ve been born rich.”

“Did Lauren ever say anything else that could help us find her killer?” said Milo. “Anyone who might’ve had it in for her?”

“Nah, it was all school with her. School this, school that. She was jazzed because she was meeting a different class of people, professors, whatever.” Two eye blinks. “She was real high on that – intellectuals, professors. Really got off on hanging around with smart people.”