Proverbs 14:3
Saturday 1st December: Lisa sat with Vicky in Pazzo's Bar. But this time Lisa was a customer and liked it. They sat on the sofa opposite the long wooden bar. Both girls looked well in their different ways. Lisa was wearing a white waistcoat and shirt with a wide black belt worn high over a tight black skirt that was little more than a pelmet. She had gold and black jump-up shoes, the things with wedges. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was draped in cheap and cheerful jewellery. She turned heads. And even Vicky was looking good. Not for the first time lately. She'd abandoned her neo-hippy dress code for a short cutaway dress in white tinged with purple and a black jacket. She'd pulled her long brown hair into a pony-tail like Lisa and she had neon plastic sunglasses pushed high on her head. The effect was to make her look her age, which for Vicky was unusual.
"I'm worried V," Lisa was saying. "I've only been here two years. I got no legal status."
Lisa didn't look it but she was as Puerto Rican as they came, like fully a fifth of Springfield's population.
Vicky smiled. She liked to be giving advice these days, helping people, on the other-people's-troubles-take-your-mind-off-your-own basis, which in a way was part of the reason she'd chosen to be a teacher. "You really needn't worry. You've got a social security number, that's half the battle. You'll be able to get naturalised in a year or two if you keep your nose clean." Vicky's eyes crinkled mischievously, "Or marry an American if you want to sort it sooner." Vicky looked down at her coffee and then looked up slyly at her friend. "That's what I intend to do."
Lisa was so preoccupied with her own troubles she didn't register. "You don't need to marry an American. You're American yourself."
Vicky smiled. "Oh yes I do. The baby remember."
And Lisa, to do her credit, shrieked. "You're going to marry him? The man that knocked you up? Gee girl, that's great."
"Well I think so. Leastways we've moved in together. Well I've moved in with him, yesterday. God Lisa, I'm so excited."
"And you're keeping the baby?"
Vicky nodded, "Mmm. Yup. I am."
Lisa was genuinely thrilled. "Geez V, that's great. So who's the guy?"
"Baxter Merill."
"Christ V."
"Well don't sound so thrilled. He's not that old."
"V." Lissa reached for her friend's hand. "I don't give a damn how old he is."
"What then?"
"For God's sake V. He tried to hit on Maria before she was killed."
Vicky pulled her hand back and straightened in her chair, "So? He's a man. Men are like that. Anyway, I wasn't with him then."
"Yeh V, but it's worse than that."
Vicky was getting irritated. The rasp in her voice showed as much. "How worse?"
"Michael. Maria's man. You know Michael?"
Vicky nodded.
"He thinks Baxter Merill may have killed Maria."
"That's ridiculous. Anyway they say the police are questioning Trish Hartnett over all those killings. Not that I think for one moment she's guilty. Still."
"Not for Maria. They haven't charged her with that. And Michael says Baxter Merill had a motive."
"Which was?" Vicky was angry now, and in danger of showing it.
"Maria had told him she had something on Baxter not long before she was killed."
"What precisely?"
"I don't know."
"No, you don't do you? Look here Lisa. Baxter Merill is a good man. He's my man. He's the father of my child."
And Vicky got to her feet and marched out of the bar.
No comments:
Post a Comment