Pretty Girl Gone by David Housewright

Author:David Housewright [Housewright, David]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Private Investigators, Mystery & Detective, Hard-Boiled, Fiction
ISBN: 9781429905664
Google: IKgfSuEbeVMC
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2006-01-01T11:00:00+00:00

Brian Reif had a worn, weary expression that reminded me of a retired civil servant, someone who had been beaten down by ignorance and indifference and ingratitude. I found him inside A-1 Auto across the street from Nick’s Family Restaurant and recognized immediately that he wouldn’t talk to me. At least not civilly.

He was alone, wearing the same dungarees he had on at the Rainbow Cafe, and was working on a nearly new SUV. He came into the office when I arrived, looked at me for about two seconds, turned around, and walked back into the garage. Without an audience, he had no use for a confrontation.

I followed him.

“How did the meeting go after I left?” I asked him. “Sign up any new members?”

He answered by taking an air wrench to the lug nuts of the SUV. The car didn’t need tires, but then he wasn’t changing them, just loosening and tightening the nuts with the air wrench, making noise.

“Mr. Reif . . .”

The noise was so loud I heard it in the soles of my feet.

“Mr. Reif . . .”

I decided I might as well be talking to a microwave oven. I was angry enough to consider whacking Reif on the side of his knee with the heel of my boot, except there was nothing to gain by it. Still, I might have done it anyway if I hadn’t been distracted by the opening bars of “Don’t Fence Me In” played on my cell in between blasts of the air wrench. I recognized the phone number on my display. I returned to the office and answered it.

“Hi, Nina,” I said.

“McKenzie. Tell me you’re not still angry.”

“I’m not angry. I never was.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Then why don’t you come over. I’ll buy you dinner.”

“I’d love to . . .”

“Prudence Johnson is singing tonight, one of your favorites.”

“I can’t.”

“You are still angry.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why . . . ?”

“I’m not in the Cities.”

“Where are you?”

“A couple hundred miles southwest, in Victoria, Minnesota,” I explained.

“You rich jet-setters. The world’s your playground.”

“I really appreciate the invitation, though.”

“What are you doing in Victoria and what is that god-awful noise?”

Reif was still working the air wrench while he watched me, obviously wishing I’d go away.

“Nina, I can’t talk right now.”

“Okay, well . . .”

“I’ll call you later tonight.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“I love you,” she said.

I deactivated the cell without replying. I closed the phone and slipped it into my jacket pocket. I gave an enthusiastic wave that Reif pretended not to see and stepped out of the office into the auto shop’s parking lot. It was only about 5:30 but night was already a dark reality. Across the street the bright red neon sign of Nick’s Family Restaurant beckoned to me.

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