Flamethrower - Maggie Estep [44]
“So. You’re a detective?” The Crone asked.
“No. I just agreed to look for Jody.”
“What’s wrong with that fucking Toby?” Millie burst out. “He never does anything right. No offense, little girl, but you don’t look especially capable of going out to hunt someone’s stray wife. Particularly not this stray wife.”
“I can take care of myself,” Ruby shrugged.
“I don’t doubt that.” The Crone winked so violently Ruby wondered if she had an eye disorder. “But you’ll have to agree that Tobias should have hired someone who’s actually in the business of finding people who don’t want to be found.”
“I just want to know if you can point me in the right direction,” Ruby said, feeling very tired. “Tobias says you have keys to the brownstone. He’d like me to start by looking there.”
“She’s not there. I’m sure she’s in Pennsylvania,” The Crone said as if it ought to be obvious to anyone.
“Pennsylvania?”
“Trout Falls. She’s got a little cabin there. I guess she never told the husband about it just in case she needed an escape. She’s like that. Always keeping something secret. Part of why it didn’t work out with me and her.” The Crone’s voice had grown distant, coming at Ruby from a couple of decades earlier. “Though part of it was the woman just likes cock too much to make it as a dyke.”
Ruby winced.
“Sorry there, little girl.” The Crone winked again. “Definitely more information than you needed. But yeah. Trout Falls. Even money she’s there.”
“Is there a phone number there? She’s not answering her cell.”
“She probably threw it in the river. And no, no phone down there that I know of. The woman hates phones.”
“She does?”
“Sure does,” The Crone said.
“Oh,” Ruby said. She felt slightly cheated. She was pretty sure she’d complained to Jody about her own hatred of telephones. But The Psychiatrist had never let on that she felt the same way. Of course, at this point it was clear that there was a whole lot Ruby didn’t know about Jody Ray. Hatred of telephones was definitely the least of it.
The Crone fished through the drawer of a writing desk, found an address book, and gave Ruby the address of Jody’s Trout Falls hideaway.
“Got no idea where in Pennsylvania the place is though, girl. You’re on your own. And here,” she added, producing a key ring from a pocket in her sweatpants, “here’s the key to Jody’s apartment. Be my guest—go on over. You ain’t gonna find her there though.”
“Thanks,” Ruby said, a little surprised. She’d expected a little more fight from Millie before surrendering the information and the key.
“I’d love to chat with you all day,” Millie said, “but I gotta go to work soon.”
“Of course.” Ruby got to her feet. “Thanks, Millie.”
“I guess this will be one more reason for Jody to be pissed at me.” Millie sighed. “I don’t like that creepy husband one bit, but Jody’s gotta stop running at some point. And she could be in trouble,” The Crone said a little ominously. “You seem like a nice enough girl. Go find her. Make her face reality.”
Ruby wanted to remind The Crone that, as Jody’s patient, it wasn’t really Ruby’s job to make her psychiatrist face reality. Instead, she smiled.
“It was nice to meet you, toots,” The Crone said. “Good luck with this.”
“You too,” Ruby said. “And thanks for all your help.”
“Not a problem.” The Crone winked one last time, then closed the door after Ruby.
Ruby went down the stairs two at a time. She needed air. Badly.
It was humid outside and low-slung gray clouds crowded the sky. Ruby stood at the top of the stoop for a few seconds, gulping in air, but there really wasn’t anything to gulp. She felt woozy. She debated between a cigarette