“So what’s the deal?” Twink demanded irritably once I picked up the receiver. “Am I hauling your ass back to Anchorage today or not?”
I started to say, “Well, good morning to you, too,” but thought better of it. Twink already sounded pissed, and that kind of response would have lit her up even more.
“A few other things have come up,” I answered once I got my head in the game. “There are some additional people I need to interview.” Including your brother. That’s what I thought without saying it aloud. “If you need to get back home, I can probably rent a car here and get myself back to Anchorage once I finish up.”
“Like hell you will,” Twink snarled. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, and so far our relationship has lasted longer than one of my marriages, but I said I’d get you back and forth, and I will.”
I thought maybe she was kidding about the marriage bit but didn’t dare ask.
“Just checked my friend’s fridge,” Twink continued. “Believe me, the cupboard is bare, so you’re taking me to breakfast at Zig’s Place. I’ll be at the hotel to pick you up in ten minutes flat. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Ten it is.”
Thirty minutes later Twink and I were both ensconced in a booth at Zig’s Place. On Sunday mornings in Homer, it was clearly the go-to destination. The restaurant was jammed with customers, and uniformed staff members were working their butts off.
We both had coffee. Twink ordered the Sunday special—ham and eggs with hash browns and a short stack of buttermilk pancakes on the side. I settled for bacon, eggs, and toast—hold the hash browns. Twink devoured her food with a level of enthusiasm that reminded me of the “starving children in China” line my mother always used when she was trying to guilt me into cleaning my plate. As I watched Twink polish hers off, I suspected that if she hadn’t been a chain smoker, she would have been a very large woman, which, pound for pound, would have made her that much scarier than she already was.
“So who’s on the agenda for today?” she asked, mopping up the last of a puddle of maple syrup with a final forkful of pancake.
While we’d been waiting for our food, I had sent an SOS to Todd asking for address information for Betsy Norman, Shelley’s high-school cheerleading pal, and for Jim Brixton, Roger’s life-insurance guy. I had both of those at the ready, but now that I had Twink properly fed, I figured it was safe to ask a potentially explosive question.
“I’d like to speak to your brother,” I said.
Twink spat a mouthful of coffee back into her cup. “You want to talk to Chad? How come?”
“I need to know if he can shed any light on Jack Loveday’s suicide.”
“I thought you were looking for a missing kid,” Twink said. “What the hell does Jack Loveday’s suicide have to do with anything?”
“That’s not something I can go into right now,” I told her, “but trust me, they might be related.”
Twink glowered at me. “It’s winter. I checked and found out that Chad’s in Palm Springs right now, but what makes you think I’ll just haul off and give you his number?”
“I could probably get it eventually from another source, but getting it from you would be faster and simpler all around.”
“I’m going outside for a smoke,” she said.
I decided to stay right where I was and waved to our waitress that I was ready for a coffee refill. Eventually Twink returned, still scowling. She sat down across from me and crossed both arms over her chest.
“Well?” I asked. “Did you come to any conclusions?”
“I’ll give you Chad’s number on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That I get to listen in when you call him.”
I should have expected that, and it certainly wasn’t an optimal arrangement, but it was probably the best deal I was going to get. Marvin Price and I had determined that today was it as far as having the investigation to ourselves, and wasting valuable resources tracking down a telephone number wasn’t an effective use of our valuable and limited time.
“Done,” I said.
Twink reached for her phone. “Not here,” I said, motioning for our server to bring the check. “We’ll call from the car.”
“Good idea,” she said. “It’s Sunday. If Chad was out drinking last night, he’s probably still asleep, and he won’t be happy to be dragged out of bed.”