Линда Ла Плант: Cold Blood

Rosie now took a long deep sigh; maybe, as she herself had half-suggested, the failure of their business would send Lorraine back to the bottle, back to a life in the gutters. Rosie was therefore totally unprepared for what Lorraine had to say as she hovered by the main office door, about to leave.

Lorraine swung the door slightly with her foot. ‘I meant to tell you, the department store have offered me a full-time job as their store detective. Remember the job I took over for two weeks? Well, apparently she had one hell of a holiday and came back pregnant.’

‘What?’

‘So, we close up at the end of the week and at least I’ll have enough for the rent on the apartment.’

‘What about Page Investigations?’ Rosie asked as the tears started.

‘Like I said, it’s over, end of the week we close up shop.’

‘What about me?’

Lorraine wouldn’t look at her friend, still tap-tapping the door with the toe of her shoe. ‘Well, I guess you got to go out into the big world, Rosie, and get a job. Shouldn’t be too tough, you can use a word processor and...’

Rosie turned away, her eyes brimming, and Lorraine felt awful. She went over and slipped her arm around her friend’s shoulders.

‘I’m sorry, sometimes I say things and they come out all the wrong way. What I am trying to say is — you got a life, Rosie, and maybe I have too, not just doing what we’re doing, okay?’

Rosie nodded and felt in her pocket for a paper tissue. Lorraine hesitated, knowing that to stay with Rosie would only involve going over old ground, but was saved by the ring of the phone. Rosie snatched up the receiver, hoping against all hope that the call would mean a job, but didn’t even get out ‘Page Investigations’. It didn’t matter anyway — it was only her sponsor, Jake, wondering if she’d be at AA that evening. By the time Rosie had replied that she would, Lorraine had gone.

‘You okay, Rosie?’ Jake’s friendly rasping voice enquired.

‘Nope, we’re shutting up shop. Can I see you tonight before the meeting?’

Jake agreed and Rosie replaced the phone, feeling the tears welling up again. Was it ever going to end? Did she have a life of her own, as Lorraine had said? Did she hell, as without Lorraine, Rosie knew she was hopeless — sure, she could use a word processor, but she didn’t have enough confidence to go out alone into the big wide world. That was the difference between them — Rosie needed Lorraine, and without her, the world scared the shit out of her. Or maybe it wasn’t the world, just her own weakness and low self-esteem. Just seeing the empty cup cake carton made her want to weep — she couldn’t even stick to a diet! How could she cope without Lorraine? By having a drink, that would be how, and that realization made her want to weep even more. She badly needed to go to that meeting.

Lorraine went to her weightlifting class. She pushed herself to breaking-point, wanting to exhaust herself so she’d crash out and sleep when she got home. She blanked out Rosie’s doleful face. In truth, she was just as sad at the failure of the business, but unlike Rosie she knew she could not let it swamp her. If she had to move on, then she would do what had to be done. She knew she could not take responsibility for Rosie, it was tough enough taking it for herself, and if she was to survive then she had to put herself first, otherwise she’d go down. She had not been kidding when she had said she wanted a drink. She did. But she was not going to take one, well, not tonight. She knew by now that it never ended, the ‘thirst’ was never over. It was, and would continue to be, a constant battle for the rest of her life. Part of her wanted to fight it but sometimes, just sometimes, it seemed so pointless.

Rosie was in floods of tears, sitting beside her dear friend Jake Valsack, who was patting her hand.

‘Well, maybe she’s right, Rosie. If it’s not working out on any front, more specifically financially, why flog a dead horse?’

Rosie blew her nose. ‘She just came out with it, like she must have known a while back about this offer of a job. You see, she’s pregnant.’

‘What, Lorraine?’

‘NO! The goddamned store detective, the bitch!’

Jake raised his thick, matted eyebrows. He was having a tough time following what Rosie was going on about, but surmised that Lorraine had a job and Rosie didn’t, and their so-called investigation business was kaput.

‘I mean, how could she do it, Jake? I decorated and painted the place, we got all that office furniture... I know it’s not much, but we got phone extensions put in, I got a word processor to pay off, a fax machine and a... It was me that got the desks, you know, and the furniture. It took us months to set up, how could she do this to me?’

‘She did it, Rosie, because you got no work offered, right? Am I right?’

‘That is not the point,’ she said stubbornly.

Jake sneaked a look at his watch; the meeting was about to start. Rosie could carry on like this for a long time, he knew it of old, and no matter what he said she paid no attention, she just went round and round in circles.

‘What about that ex-captain, Rooney? I though you said he was gonna drum up work?’

Rosie blew her nose. ‘Oh, him! He’s boozed out, his wife’s just died.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know him, but how is he coping?’ Jake asked, trying to change the subject.

Rosie continued as if there had been no interruption. ‘I mean, if you don’t stay with something, you know, really see it through... we got the office furniture and I schlepped all over yard sales for that...’

Jake gripped her hand tighter. ‘Rosie, sweetheart, maybe Lorraine did just that, saw it through and came to the conclusion it wasn’t gonna work. It hasn’t worked.’

‘She never gave it a chance,’ Rosie snapped back.

Jake sighed in frustration. He was in the chair this evening and he could see that the crowd of people arriving for the meeting was thinning out as they entered the hall. ‘Rosie, I got to go in now. Maybe talk this through after?’

‘I need to talk it through now, Jake.’

He was trying to hold on to his temper. ‘Rosie, I have been talking it through with you for over an hour but you won’t face facts.’

‘Facts are, Jake, she just dumped me. We might have got overflow work from the other agencies.’

‘No, honey, facts are Lorraine’s talking sense. I mean, you think about this, you know her history, she was a drunk cop on duty, she got kicked out of her station, she shot a young kid, for chrissakes. You ever think that maybe, just maybe, none of the other agencies can take the risk of an ex-junkie, ex-alcoholic orderin’ their toilet paper, never mind taking on any overflow of cases? They know about her, so even if it’s tracin’ stolen vehicles—’

‘But we did a trace, we got three.’

Jake rumpled his thinning hair; she was refusing to listen to him. ‘I got to go in, Rosie, like now, so come on, wipe your nose and let’s go in. You need a bit of stabilizing.’

‘I need a drink, Jake.’

He closed his eyes. It was going to be a long, long night.

They were just about to go back to square one when there was a tap on the window of his beat-up Pontiac. ‘Jake, it’s me, only I’ve welcomed everyone as I don’t think we’re going to get any more here tonight. Coffee is served and everyone’s waiting for you to take the chair.’

The thin-faced woman in a rather expensive tailored suit stepped back from the car. Phyllis Collins didn’t even glance at Rosie, who was blowing her nose loudly.

‘Okay, Phyllis, I’m comin’ now.’ Jake stepped from the car, bent down to Rosie. ‘Let’s go, Rosie.’

‘No, I’m not coming in.’