It was a safe deposit key.
I took it off Gourd’s necklace and slipped it into my wallet. Underneath my driver’s license. My curiosity was definitely aroused. Nobody wore a safe deposit key around their neck without a fairly significant reason.
I had just finished reading the SF Chronicle. Weasley’s disappearance wasn’t big enough to merit any coverage at all. Apparently, a small city lawyer needed to have his head sliced off and rolled down main street to attract major media attention.
Poor old Weasley. In the end, he was only big enough for a last bow in the once a week Walnut Creek Tableau. I’d have to get a copy some day.
I went next door to see Frisbee. She would be good at the idea that was sloshing around in my head. A telephone to me was a dreaded instrument that could bite you in the ear canal or steal your tongue and sell it into slavery. For her, the phone was the cradle of civilization. I saw her cradling it all the time. Up and down the lane in front of her trailer. Getting good cell phone reception and giving her arms plenty of room to emote over her words.
I knocked on her door. She opened it wearing a miniskirt nightgown. She had pretty good legs for thirty-eight and meant to keep showing them off as long as she could. I felt a little bad for her. Somehow she had gotten the conviction that all she was worth was her body parts. They were always on display, dangling around out there like male entrapment catalogs. She used them to receive male assistance from every old geezer in the trailer park with a tongue that drooled at the drop of a glimpse. Errands. Lifting heavy objects. Fixing broken machines. All the dirty work that males specialized in. I couldn’t help wondering: what are you gonna do when the glimpses get old and the tongues don’t drool?
“Hey, Blue. C’mon in.”
Her trailer was narrower than mine, but a lttle longer and a whole lot cleaner. She apologized for the mess. I looked around and eventually spotted a plate in the sink with some dried egg on it. Soaking in water.
“What’s up?” she asked, sitting down at her dinette table.
I sat down across from her. “I need a favor.”
“You sure do. But I don’t do blowjobs in the morning, Blue. Sorry. You can peek up my skirt, but that’s all.”
She laughed hysterically. She got a big bang out of being bawdy, like I more or less mentioned. Part of the entrapment catalog.
“I’ll wait till noon then,” I said.
She laughed again. I wondered what it would be like to live with someone who laughed all day long. Would it get annoying? And how did she and Moose manage to fight all the time? Did she make wisecracks while he smacked her around? Take a giggle break to check out a wrist that might be broken?
I looked around to see if Moose was there. No. Making a morning raid on somebody’s scrap pile probably. Then I remembered he was in jail.
She had a bottle of nail polish on the table. She was painting her nails some sort of purplish color.
“Okay, Blue. What kind of favor do you need?”
“I need you to make some phone calls. Track down some information.”
“You got a phone. Why do you need me?”
“It’s a phobia thing.”
“A phobia thing?”
“Yeah. You know. Me and phones are allergic.”
“How do you order pizza then?”
“I don’t.”
“What if somebody calls you?”
“That’s different. All I have to do is answer. I don’t have to ask. Asking is where I’m no good. It’s an emphasis thing.”
“You’re not keeping up with life very well, are you Blue? Is that a Teresa thing?”
“Probably so. How’d you guess?”
“It’s a girl thing.”
“Right. Of course.”
“What kind of information you need, Blue?”
“The location of a bank, actually.”
“You don’t need a phone for that. You can look in the Yellow Pages.”
“I don’t know which bank to look for.”
“What bank do you want?”
“The one a guy I know uses. His bank.”
“Why don’t you just ask him?”
“I can’t. He’s out of the country, so to speak.”
“Call him and ask. They got phones overseas, you know.”
I looked at her and shrugged feebly.
“Right,” she said. “You want me to call him.”
“No. Not that. I want you to find his bank without asking him.”
“You don’t want him to know you’re looking for his bank?”
“Sort of. It’s a little hard to explain.”
“No kidding. Why do you want to know which bank is his?”
“There’s something there I need to get.”
“All they got in banks is money.”
“Well. They got safe deposit boxes, too. You never know what’s in them.”
“Safe deposit boxes?”
“That’s just an example. You can get loans from banks, too. Or open accounts.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What the hell are you up to, Blue? You got a Moose type sound to you. That’s not good.”
“See. That’s why I need you to find out. I’d Moose it up.”
“No shit. So you want me to find this guy’s bank where he’s got a safe deposit box. Is that about right?”
“Yes.”
“What’s in the box?”
“I don’t know.”
“Didn’t he tell you.”
“He never got around to mentioning that.”
“But he mentioned the box.”
“In so many words, yeah.”
“Does he know you’re looking for his box?”
“Probably.” Depending on the afterlife, I guess. What the dead could see back here in life. If anything. Nobody was precisely clear about that. That I knew of, anyway. You had to be a Saint to have that clue. I didn’t know any Saints.
“This is like pulling teeth, Blue. What the fuck are you up to?”
“I can’t really tell you.”
“You don’t trust me? Is that it?”
“It isn’t that. It’s just better if you don’t know. Not right now, anyway.”
“That don’t sound good.”
“Trust me. It’s okay.”
“So what’s this guy’s name? I’ll need to know if I’m going to find his bank.”
“Gourd. P. William Gourd. He’s a judge in Oakland. He lives in the Oakland hills. Or maybe it’s the Berkeley hills. I’m not sure. It might be a Berkeley address.”
“Whoa! A fucking judge? What the hell are you tracking down some judge’s bank for?”
“Like I said, I can’t tell you.”
“He’s not out of the country, is he? You were lying.”
“No, he’s out of the country. That was true.”
“Are we talking about robbing this judge’s safe deposit box while he’s out of the country? Level with me, Blue.”
“Not we.”
“You.”
“Not you. That’s the main point. You’re not doing anything but locating a bank. Period.”
“You ain’t normally dangerous like this, Blue. What’s happened to you?”
“It’s not dangerous.”
“Bull. I know dangerous when I see it. You got the Moose eye, sure as shit.”
I gave her a little smile. “But not the Moose head.”
“That’s what he says, too. Jail head is what both of you have. You shouldn’t do this, Blue. It ain’t your style. You’re in over your head. Fucking judge, no less. You’re out of your mind.”
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“I’m thinking I shouldn’t.”
“Then I’d have to do it myself.”
“I’m thinking I’d better.”
“Then you will?”
“I’m thinking I’m crazy.”
“But you will anyway?”
“You’re going to tell me what’s in the box, right?”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“But you will.”
“Yeah. I will.”
“Shit. What’s this asshole judge’s name again?”
To be continued . . .
Skeletons and Keys 