“Must be painful.”
“When people expect mediocrity, they’re surprised when I prove them wrong.”
He slid the Wayfarers down his nose and peered over the frames.
“And I always prove them wrong.”
He slid the Wayfarers back into place, faced forward, and grinned.
“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
We stopped for burritos and then we went to find Kimmie Laird.
50
Kimberly had canceled her appointments for the remainder of the week. The receptionist at Stennis apologized and asked if I’d like to schedule with another stylist. I hung up, dialed Kimberly’s cell, and found her at home. She sounded as lost as yesterday’s kiss, but she agreed to see us.
I lowered the phone and cautioned Josh.
“So you know, they were a couple.”
“A couple couple? Rachel didn’t mention having a partner.”
“Point is, she’s in pain. Be sensitive.”
Kimberly lived in a tiny courtyard apartment in Mar Vista, not far from the I10–405 interchange. The building was a featureless, two-story stucco box surrounding a concrete courtyard. A massive royal palm was centered in the courtyard, standing tall above the building on a heavy, gray trunk thicker than three elephant legs. We found Kimberly’s ground-floor apartment hidden behind the palm.
Kimberly looked empty when she opened the door. Her eyes seemed lost in gray caves, and she probably hadn’t slept. She wore pink tights with a beige stain at the knee and a pale blue T-shirt cropped below her breasts. Her feet were bare.
I said, “I’m sorry about Rachel.”
“You warned me.”
She went to a couch and pulled up her feet.
The furnishings in her tiny living room were scant. The couch was the only furniture available for seating, so I took a chair from the dining table. Josh remained by the door, as if he felt uncomfortable being with this woman and her grief.
I said, “Remember Josh Schumacher?”
Josh said, “We’ve met. I’m Josh Shoe.”
“I remember. Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Those were good shows. Rach made everyone listen.”
Josh seemed uncertain how to respond.
I said, “How’d you hear?”
“Online. Then people called. Now everybody’s talking about it, but nobody knows what happened.”
“Maybe you can help us find out.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“You were her safety. You know things no one else knows.”
Kimberly shook her head, as incredulous now as she was before.
“It can’t be Grady. She hasn’t seen him in almost a month and she was fine.”
Josh came closer.
“She saw him more recently than you think.”
“She would’ve told me. She always tells me.”
Josh kneeled, making himself smaller.
“She was helping me with a special podcast I’m putting together. Did she tell you about it?”
A tiny line appeared above her nose.
“What kind of podcast?”
“About her life and stuff. About Grady Locke and what she used to do for him. And his boss.”
“I know what they did. They fucked.”
“Besides that.”
She glanced from Josh to me.
“What’s going on?”
I said, “Josh has the recording. We’d like to play it. Rachel can tell you herself.”
Kimberly unfolded her legs.
“Okay, sure. I’d love to hear it.”
Josh took a small speaker from his pack, connected his phone, and selected the track. It was the long track, the track about Grady Locke.
Josh said, “Here we go.”
Thirty seconds after Rachel began, Kimberly sobbed and covered her face. Josh paused the playback, and I brought her a glass of water from the kitchen. She pulled herself together and went to the bathroom. When she returned, we started from the beginning. This time Kimberly Laird didn’t cry. Kimberly seemed confused at first, but when Rachel described Horton Tarly delivering a bucket of cash she took a single sharp breath. She listened intently as Rachel described the texts between Locke and Tarly, and the things she’d done after. When the track finally ended, Kimberly looked at Josh and wet her lips.
“Is this real?”
Josh sounded surprised.
“You don’t believe this was Rachel?”
“No, no, it’s Rachel, but—I dunno, she didn’t tell me any of this. Did it even happen? Was she acting?”
Josh stared at me. I gave him a head shrug. You see? We needed more.