Faye Kellerman - Hangman

“How about if you wash your face, I’ll put on some coffee,” Marge said. “You do have coffee, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So I’ll make some coffee, okay?”

“Whatever.” She disappeared into a bedroom.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “How much do you think we’ll get out of her?”

“At this point, I’m just aiming for the name of the hunk that Adri-anna was flirting with. Or maybe he was flirting with Adrianna .”

The two detectives took in Crystal’s living space. The carpet hadn’t been vacuumed for a while and the blinds were speckled in dust. Copies of Cosmo, People , and Us magazines were strewn on tabletops and littered the floor. Furniture was simple: sofa, an ottoman, end tables, a dinette set, and a flat screen on a stand. Messy but not filthy.

The kitchen was another story: dishes in the sink, sticky countertops, grit on the floor, and an overflowing garbage can under the sink. Marge found some coffee in the fridge and milk that was fortunately not beyond its expiration date. She brewed up a pot of strong coffee, found some clean mismatched mugs—she rinsed them out anyway—and poured a cup for Oliver and for herself.

It was taking a while for Crystal to make her appearance. Marge got up from the couch. “Let me see what’s going on.”

She found Crystal in her bedroom, stripped to her skivvies and fast asleep atop her comforter.

“Oh boy.” Marge gave her a gentle shake. “Crystal, we need a few minutes.” Another shake. “Wake up, honey.”

Crystal opened her eyes. “Wha?”

“Last night, honey,” Marge said. “We need to talk about last night.”

“I was at the Port Hole.”

“Not tonight, Crystal, last night. At Garage…where you were working.”

Crystal rolled over. “I took the day off.”

Marge shook her. “I want to talk about Adrianna, Crystal. She was flirting with a man at Garage. I want to talk about that man.”

Crystal turned over and faced Marge. “Huh?”

“Last night at Garage. You were comping them both free drinks. You could get into trouble for that.”

That got her attention. She sat up. “You’re not gonna say something?”

“Not if you talk to us,” Marge said. “Put on a robe, come out into the living room, and let us talk to you for a few minutes. Then you can go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Crystal blinked several times. Her lids, freed from the crushing weight of the mascara, could move. With a scrubbed face and no makeup, she looked far more vulnerable. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

“We’ll be waiting in the living room.”

A sec was fifteen minutes, but she did come out, and when she did, Marge gave her a cup of coffee. “Drink.”

Crystal obliged. Her voice was shaky. “You can’t tell my boss…about the drinks.” She rubbed her eyes with her right fist. “If he finds out, I’ll get fired.”

“For comping a few drinks?” Oliver asked her.

“It wasn’t like…the first time.” Another sip of coffee. “It’s not like it’s such a big deal. Jeez, they dilute the shit anyway. I’m mostly comping them water.”

“You’re a good friend,” Marge said.

Crystal’s eyes swelled with tears. “I wasn’t expecting her last night. She just popped in, but I shouldna been surprised. She does that a lot when Garth isn’t around.”

“Does what?” Marge asked.

Crystal appeared to be deep in thought. “When he’s gone, she gets lonely. She likes a little fix of company. She usually doesn’t come to Garage because it’s expensive—the bar is. But she knew I was working and she knew I’d give her a break.”

“Do you know the guy she was flirting with?”

“Don’t recall knowing him,” Crystal said. “He’s not a regular.”

“Did you get a name?”

She thought hard. “I mighta heard someone calling him Farley.”

“Is that a first or last name?”

She shrugged.

“What does he look like?” Oliver asked.

“I dunno. Medium height, medium weight…real big shoulders.”

“Good-looking?” Marge asked.

“Not too bad.”

“Kind of a hunk?”

“More like the Hulk…’cause of his shoulders.”

Marge nodded. Sela Graydon said that Crystal had referred to him as a hunk. Maybe she misheard “hunk” for “Hulk.” Or maybe Crystal had reassessed in the light of day. “Were the two of them hitting it off?”

Crystal took another sip of coffee. “Maybe he thought so. Adri-anna wasn’t serious about a hookup that night. She had to work.”

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