Dogtown by Mercedes Lambert

Author:Mercedes Lambert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: noirhardboiled detective novellos angelesmexican americanlawyer detective
Publisher: Stark House Press

CHAPTER TWELVE

I woke up. My shoulder felt like an elephant had stepped on it during the night. I spent a few moments feeling for all of my limbs before I opened my eyes. A bruise that looked like a map of Tennessee was spreading across my rib cage. I hadn’t been so beat up since I played soccer in college. Slowly I got out of bed. I was stiff all over. I glanced at the neglected weight bench and barbells in the corner; I had thought I was in good shape. A blue seersucker suit just back from the cleaner’s was in the closet, and I put it on with a white linen blouse. I am probably the last woman in Los Angeles who wears spectator pumps; I have them in navy and white, black and white and brown and white. Bally. Today I slipped into the brown and white pair. Out of habit I put on the opera length pearls.

I went into the bathroom. The right side of my jaw was pale purple where Pete Manzo had punched me. I got out my makeup and covered it with beige foundation. Then I powdered it with translucent raw silk loose powder, just like Town & Country says you should. I cranked open the louvered frosted-glass window above the toilet to look outside. It was hot and sunny already, and I wasn’t going to let another day get by without finding Monica Fullbright.

Lupe was still asleep on the couch. Her clothes were neatly folded in a pile on the floor next to her, a pair of black g-string panties on top. One brown calf had kicked free of the sheets. I tiptoed past her to get the phone and carried it into the kitchen. Leaning against the wall, I dialed the number I had dialed so many times before and waited for it to ring. Monica Fullbright’s phone rang twice, then a pleasant recorded female voice announced that it had been disconnected. I called back. It was disconnected.

This would mean another trip out to her rattrap duplex to try to find her. I wondered when she’d most likely be there. Morning? Afternoon? I should probably go to the office first, see if any of the courts had called me. Frustrated, I opened the refrigerator although I wasn’t really hungry. There was a small dish with tinfoil covering it. I peeled back the foil. Lupe’s guacamole. There was orange juice Lupe must have bought. I had to tell her to leave. A bottle of Stoly was hidden in the freezer. Putting the phone down on the counter, I wrestled out the ice tray.

“What time is it?” Lupe stood in the doorway pulling on a T-shirt, the dark place between her legs visible.

Looking away, I poured some Stoly into a glass. “About six. I’m leaving now. You have to go this morning. Today. Not mañana. Understand?”

The sun streamed into the kitchen window, throwing a chunk of light onto the yellow linoleum floor.

“No problem. I’ll leave.

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