Thursday, February 17, 2011

Clara (Ten of Twenty)

The clinic records said “Paula Nimitz.” Address probably fake, but I called up Dara, gave it to her to check out. Hawked a red stain on the metro floor, but it kinda blended in with the rusty brown carpet anyway.

Called up the taxi company after a couple tries, got the cabbie's information. Said he wouldn't be in until 7, worked a lot of nights. Told me I could call back then.

I called the Wellingtons, gave em a quick update. Nothing big yet, but I had my lead. Then I had some time to kill. I coulda gone back to the office, except Dara woulda gone full-on dame on me. Didn't want to have that conversation. Figured she wouldn'ta known to calm down cause it was just a little blood.

I went down to the tyrannical gardens to sit and look at flowers [Trace means botanical gardens. At least, I hope he does. -Dara] Real nice, they got some pretty cornflowers growing in a bunch. I wanted to pick one, but they weren't mine to pick. Bourbon made the time go quicker.

Around 6, I got up, left for the taxi company, met Bob the cabbie. Told Bob that the girl he picked up in the middle of the night, I was trying to find. Slipped a 20 into his crabbed hand, told him I needed to be his first fare. He smiled back, the wart under his nose twitching.

We drove a while. I knew he looped back on his tracks more than once. Tried to make it seem like he couldn't remember, but he knew exactly where he was going. I just sat there, kept my mouth shut.

He finally let me out 80 bucks later, in front of this tall apartment building. Bob said she walked in there. I left him a few bucks for a tip, even though he ripped me off bad.

Doorman asked what I was here for. I asked after Paula. He rang her all casual, and I got a sinking feeling. When she stepped off the elevator, I felt like someone kicked me in the crotch. She was brunette, sure, and she was white, but it wasn't Clara.

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