Skin Deep

46

Steve arrived a few minutes before the women and took a booth at the rear of the restaurant, which was up the street from the health club.

He didn’t know what they had. He didn’t know if this was a legitimate lead, implicating Neil French. He didn’t know if he himself had anything to do with the death of Terry Farina. What he did know was that he’d best shift into neutral, play detective as if he had never laid eyes on Terry Farina. If this turned out to be a dead end, then he’d go to Reardon.

The place was called Fazio’s, vintage Italiana with red-and-white-checked tablecloths and basket-bottomed Chianti bottles, serving as candleholders. One wall was a mural of Pompeii, its streets glittering with shops and villas, the surrounding countryside an idyllic world of flowers, cypress trees, grazing sheep, and young men and women in idle play while in the distance rose the cone of Vesuvius, a dark curlicue of smoke rising from its vent like a fuse.

The place was empty except for the staff preparing for the luncheon crowd. They saw him and joined him in the rear booth. Michelle, who gave her age as thirty-three, was petite and wiry and had black hair, dark eyes, and thin features. Something about her face made Steve wonder if he had seen her before. She didn’t recognize him, so he let that pass. They ordered coffee and pastries. The women were nervous, so Steve tried to put them at ease with small talk.

When the coffee arrived, Michelle opened up. “I don’t think he knew she was dancing, at least not in the beginning.”

“Did you know?”

“Yeah, I got her the job. The general manager, Mickey DeLuca, is my cousin. He mentioned you talked to him the other day.”

“Yes, we did.” He could see the resemblance in her face.

“She said she needed the money and was looking for a waitressing job. Mickey hired her, and after a while she started dancing because it paid more. I think she had danced in the past. Neil joined the club and she became his trainer. Then, I don’t know, maybe after a few weeks they started seeing each other. That went on I think for maybe three or four months.”

The waitress came with the desserts, but nobody made a move on them.

“I think he took to her pretty fast,” Michelle continued. “And Neil was good for her. When she started at Kingsbury, she was in a bad relationship with a guy.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Phillip something. I don’t remember his last name.”

“Phillip Waldman?”

“Yeah, Waldman. He played in a band and taught guitar on the side, but I think he spent more time watching TV and smoking dope. She got tired of him and wanted to end it. So she asked Neil to help get him out of the apartment, which I think he did.”

“After Waldman left, did Neil and Terry continue seeing each other?”

“Yeah. I don’t know all the details, but I think Neil started getting serious and wanted more of a commitment. But Terry wasn’t ready to settle down, especially right after Phillip.”

“Did Neil know she was stripping?”

Alice shook her head and deferred to Michelle. “Not until he began to push her to commit. That’s when I think she told him.”

“Did she say how he took it?”

“Pretty hard. I think for him it was a question of morals. Also he was worried about her being hit on by a bunch of creeps, maybe somebody slipping her a drug and raping her. I guess he was pretty protective.”

“Yeah.”

“They had a real blowout. He wanted her to quit, but she needed the money. Then she caught him going through her phone messages and mail and figured he was becoming like Phillip. That’s when she said she wanted to end it. That was a blow because he’d lost his wife, and now her.”

“Did she ever say that Neil hurt her physically or ever threatened her?”

“She never said that he hit her. But she did say he had a temper and felt a little afraid of him.”

“This isn’t going to get back to him, is it?” Alice asked.

“No.”

“See why I called?”

“Yes, and you did the right thing.”

They were quiet for a moment, then Alice asked, “Do you think, you know, that he did it?”

“Do I think he killed her? No, I don’t,” he said, trying to put conviction behind his words.

Alice nodded and Michelle just looked blank. They had only picked on the desserts. When it was time to go, Steve paid and they left the restaurant together.

He thanked the women and headed for his car, feeling as if he were stuck halfway through a Lewis Carroll looking glass, hoping that his partner was the killer and not himself.