Rating: ★★★★☆ Tags: Mystery Detective, General, Fiction

three kids
now. I
haven’t talked to Amy since high school. I learned my
lesson. If I saw her on the street, I’d run the other way.’ The
baby howled. ‘I gotta go.’
‘Just real quick, Hilary—’
She hung up, and immediately, my disposable
vibrated. I ignored it. I had to find a place to stow the damn
thing.
I could feel the presence of someone, a woman, near
me, but I didn’t look up, hoping she would go away.
‘It’s not even noon, and you already look like you’ve
had a full day, poor baby.’
Shawna Kelly. She had her hair pulled up in a high
bubblegum-girl ponytail. She aimed glossed lips at me in a
sympathetic pout. ‘You ready for some of my Frito pie?’
She was bearing a casserole dish, holding it just below her
breasts, the saran wrap dappled with sweat. She said the
words like she was the star of some ’80s hair-rock video:

---

You want summa my 
pie
?
‘Big breakfast. Thanks, though. That’s really kind of
you.’
Instead of going away, she sat down. Under a
turquoise tennis skirt, her legs were lotioned so well they
reflected. She kicked me with the toe of an unblemished
Tretorn. ‘You sleeping, sweetie?’
‘I’m holding up.’
‘You’ve got to sleep, Nick. You’re no good to anyone if
you’re exhausted.’
‘I might leave in a little bit, see if I can grab a few
hours.’
‘I think you should. I really do.’
I felt a sudden keen gratitude to her. It was my
mama’s-boy attitude, rising up. Dangerous. 
Crush it, Nick
.
I waited for her to go. She needed to go – people were
beginning to watch us.
‘If you want, I can drive you home right now,’ she said.
‘A nap might be just the thing for you.’
She reached out to touch my knee, and I felt a burst of
rage that she didn’t realize she needed to go. 
Leave the
casserole, you clingy groupie whore, and go
. Daddy’s-boy
attitude, rising up. Just as bad.
‘Why don’t you check in with Marybeth?’ I said
brusquely, and pointed to my mother-in-law by the Xerox,
making endless copies of Amy’s photo.
‘Okay.’ She lingered, so I began ignoring her outright.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Hope you like the pie.’
The dismissal had stung her, I could tell, because she
made no eye contact as she left, just turned and sauntered
off. I felt bad, debated apologizing, making nice. 
Do not go

---

after that woman
, I ordered myself.
‘Any news?’ It was Noelle Hawthorne, entering the
same space Shawna had just vacated. She was younger
than Shawna but seemed older – a plump body with dour,
wide-spaced mounds for breasts. A frown on her face.
‘Not so far.’
‘You sure seem to be handling it all okay.’
I twitched my head at her, unsure what to say.
‘Do you even know who I am?’ she asked.
‘Of course. You’re Noelle Hawthorne.’
‘I’m Amy’s 
best
friend here.’
I had to remind the police: There were only two options
with Noelle. She was either a lying publicity whore – she
liked the cachet of being pals with a missing woman – or
she was crazy. A stalker determined to befriend Amy, and
when Amy shirked her …
‘Do you have any information about Amy, Noelle?’ I
asked.
‘Of course I do, 
Nick
. She was my 
best friend
.’
We stared each other down for a few seconds.
‘Are you going to share it?’ I asked.
‘The police know where to find me. If they ever get
around to it.’
‘That’s super-helpful, Noelle. I’ll make sure they talk to
you.’
Her cheeks blazed red, two expressionist splatters of
color.
She went away. I thought the unkind thought, one of
those that burbled up beyond my control. I thought: