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“Nope, just her, the blonde. And like I said, just a couple of times. Literally. Two…at least that I saw and I usually see everything from seven a.m. to nine p.m.”
Milo said, “Long shift.”
“Goes with the job. They make it worth my while.”
“The owners.”
“You bet,” said Aguirre. “Great bunch of people, they’re a family based in Seattle. I know what people think but you’d be surprised.”
“What do people think?”
“Owners of places like this are vultures. People who think that should try doing it themselves.”
Suddenly pugnacious. An argument he’d been compelled to offer often.
Milo said, “So just the blonde.”
Aguirre slipped his smile back on like a comfortable shoe. “Yup, only her and trust me, she’s someone you’d notice.”
Milo showed him Cordi Gannett’s internet photo.
Aguirre’s pupils dilated. “That’s her, all right. Who is she?”
“A friend,” said Milo.
“Just like I said,” said Aguirre. “You do this job long enough, you get a feel for people.”
I said, “So what’s going to happen to Joey with Charlie no longer paying the overage?”
Aguirre shrugged. “We’ll work it out. One way or the other.”
—
We left the conference room and headed for the entry with Aguirre just ahead of us.
Milo said, “Could we have a look at Joey?”
“You already have,” said Aguirre. He pointed to one of the wheelchairs lined up near the front door.
A shrunken form of indeterminate age was strapped in at mid-chest and waist-level. Withered legs were propped straight out on slide-out rests and similarly belted. Sunken cheeks, gray stubble, toothless mouth, and the collapsed jawline caused by a toothless mouth. Static eyes were mere suggestions within dark hollows. An oxygen mask dangled from the back of the chair.
Milo said, “Joey?”
Hector Aguirre said, “He’s blind and deaf so you probably don’t want to waste your time.”
—
We left Tudor Palms and Milo checked out the neighbors. Foreign car mechanic to the north, tire dealer to the south. The air on the sidewalk was thick with auto fumes but my lungs felt liberated getting out of there.
I said, “That was cheerful.”
Milo said, “Dante would be proud. I ever get like that, pal, shoot me with my service revolver and set it up like a suicide. By now, you know how.”
“What’s in it for me?”
He laughed. “Reciprocity? Maybe push you over a cliff in the Seville?”
“Let me think about it.”
