rolling her eyes, and I tried to make her laugh, but she held on till she hung up, then she and I roared till I thought we’d pee our—uh-oh, did I shock you?”
“Not yet.”
“Gives me something to shoot for.”
Again the rising voice. “Ms. Wickmire—”
“I decided I’d rather you call me ‘Traci.’ ”
“Traci.”
“I mean, if I can call you anything I want, you should be able to call me anything you want, right?”
The rising voice was the only coloring on the flirting lines, because she didn’t deliver them with anything else. “Traci—”
“And I’ll call you ‘John.’ ”
“Traci, she never told you who at work it might have been?”
“No, I just asked her, ‘Who the fuck was that, your sugar I daddy?’ Oh-uh, I just used ‘fuck.’ Now I have shocked you.”
“My generation doesn’t shock that easily, all the practice we’ve gotten holding yours back.”
Wickmire rubbed the knuckles of her toes. “I think you’re a lot more clever than you show at first, John.”
“What did Ms. Proft—”
“As long as we’re so flexible with names, can we call her ‘Darbra’?”
“Fine.” 9
“I mean, it’s a super name, and there’s at least a chance she’s dead, so why not speak nice about her?”
The air felt a little cold. “You think she’s dead?”
“I don’t know. But she is missing, and you started me way back in college with her, so I have to think you believe it’s a... ‘distinct possibility.’ Why do you think I’ve been telling you all this so straight?”
“Traci, what exactly did Darbra say when you asked her who the man on the other end of the phone was?”
“I don’t know, something like, ‘Yeah, kind of.’ ”
“Kind of what?”
“Kind of her sugar daddy, I guess.”
“Do you remember when this was?”
“A month, six weeks ago. It was no big thing with Darb, John.”
I took some notes. “What was no big thing?”
“Talking to a man on the phone. She had her share.”
No lift to that sentence. “She saw a lot of men?”
“Saw them, touched them, fucked them. There, if that doesn’t shock you, I don’t know what will.”
“How many?”
“We could check her bedpost for notches.”
“How many recently that you know of?”
“How many. Well, sugar daddy, whoever he is. The married guy, and—”
“What married guy?”
“This guy, lived out in the suburbs somewhere. They were a thing almost since we moved in here. I used to see him when he’d come in to Darb’s for a little... what did you call it when you were young, ‘trysting’?”
Not even formally. “Can you describe him?”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t his name be a little more help to you?”
I looked at her. “It would.”
“Okay. His name’s Roger Houle. It sounds like ‘jewel,’ but it’s spelled like French.”
“H-O-U-L-E?”
“I think so.”
“Address?”
“I don’t know, but you can find out easy enough.”
“How?”
Wickmire looked at me as though I should be sitting in the sectional piece facing the corner. “They used to phone each other all the time to set up ‘logistics,’ Darb said he called it. All you have to do is check with Ma Bell, right?” Not quite as easy as that. “Okay—”
“ ‘Course, he’s not going to be much help to you, John.”
“He’s not?”
“Uh-unh. Darb broke up with him, oh, a month ago, maybe?”
I thought about it. “Before or after the ‘sugar daddy’ call? She took a moment. “After. I remember thinking, ‘Well, it’s a good thing she still has her sugar daddy.’ ”
“Did you say that to Darbra?”
“No.” Wickmire seemed indignant. “That would have been pretty insensitive of me, don’t you think?”
“Whose idea was it to break up?”
“I don’t know, but probably Darb’s.”
“Why?”
“Men who are stupid enough to get involved with her don’t usually walk away from her. She said it was a real screamer, though.”
“What was?”
“The breakup. In a
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