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THAT EVENING, PUSHING a basket at Winn-Dixie, I saw a young woman with a small red mouth and amber-colored hair and a flush on her cheeks.
“There you are again,” she said. “ ’Member me?”
I had to think. “You’re Babette. From the bar-and-grill.”
“You ordered two doubles and a Heineken. You was waiting for your friend, but you drank it all.”
“I wish I hadn’t.”
“Your friend come in afterward. You’re a friend of Mr. Spade, ain’t you?”
We were in the middle of the aisle, but no one else was around. “Spade Labiche came in the bar after I left?”
“Yes, suh. He left his gold lighter. I run out after him. He was talking to another man, but he drove off befo’ I could catch him.”
“What’d you do with the lighter?”
“I put it in the drawer for a couple of days. When he didn’t come in, I dropped it t’rew the mail slot in the big building wit’ a note.”
“Did Mr. Spade tell you he was looking for me?”
“He was in the corner. He come over and axed if you’d gone in the bat’room. I tole him you was gone.”
“Do you know who Mr. Spade was with?”
Her eyes lingered on mine, as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff. “I seen him once befo’. I don’t know his name or nothing about him.”
“What’s he look like?”
“He’s got bad skin. It’s thick, like leather. Like his eyes are looking out of holes. I ain’t caused no trouble, no?”
“Of course not. You’re a nice person, Miss Babette. Did Mr. Spade thank you for returning his lighter?”
“No, suh, he ain’t said nothing.”
I took a business card out of my wallet and wrote my unlisted number on the back. “If you see that other guy again, give me a ring. Of if you have any problems with anything at all, give me a ring.”
I could see the uncertainty, the fear about her job, her paycheck, her relationship with her boss, the prospect of offending people with power and authority over others, the dark figure sitting in the shadows at the end of the bar when it’s closing time. I wondered how many people would understand her frame of reference.
She squeezed the card in her fist. “I better go.”
“Remember what I said. You’re a nice lady.”
“T’ank you,” she replied.
She pushed her basket to the cashier’s counter and didn’t look back.
* * *
ON FRIDAY MORNING, I went into Labiche’s office. It was hardly more than a cubicle, located in a corner without windows. “What’s the haps?” I said.
He looked up from his paperwork. He tried to grin. “What’s shaking, Robo?”
“Alafair told me about your visit to my house. You found my prints on some broken glass?”
“Like I told her, there’s probably an explanation. Maybe you didn’t have your latex on at the crime scene.”
“No, my gloves were on. Why didn’t you come to my office instead of my house?”
