Read Online How I Spent My Summer Vacation by Gillian Roberts - Free Book Online Page B

loud voice that sounded like it had rivets in it, too.”
    “Age? Looks?”
    Sasha shrugged. “Thirty-something, probably? And okay looks, except for the metalworks.”
    “And that’s it? Nobody else? You said a couple of women.”
    “Oh…” she said. She shook her head. “No, okay—there was a drab one in there, too. That’s what I remember about her. Drabness.”
    “Come on, Sasha. That’s not at all helpful.”
    She shrugged. “What’s to notice about drabness?”
    “How old? How big? No rivets?”
    The matron cleared her throat. I interpreted the sound as a warning bell and leaned forward, literally pressing for information.
    “Not so young,” Sasha said. “Not a kid and not ancient, you know? But she had a great bag.”
    “Her pocketbook ?”
    “Uh-huh. Blue and purple leather.”
    “For God’s sake, Sasha, isn’t there anything more relevant?”
    “I noticed because I’ve been eyeing one like it forever. It’s Italian and way too expensive and they never mark it down, not anywhere.”
    “Okay, then, forget her. Nobody would confuse you with a drab woman, anyway. Can you remember anything or anybody else?”
    She shook her head just as the matron tapped her watch with great, pursed-lipped solemnity. I stood up and gave up. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Is there anything you need?”
    “I need to believe I’ll be out of here before tomorrow,” Sasha said. “My cousin Herb the lawyer’s coming down this afternoon. We aren’t telling my parents until we have to, okay?”
    I nodded. Her parents were far away, one in Canada and one in Arizona at last check. Maybe, just maybe, they’d never have to know.
    Sasha suddenly looked panic-stricken. “Oh, God—it’s Tuesday, isn’t it?”
    I nodded. What was wrong with her?
    “What time is it?”
    “A little after nine.”
    “My shoot ! It’s supposed to be now! I hired an assistant and a stylist down here, and the assistant rented everything and she’s probably there . You have to call her, lie, make up some reason I’m delayed. A day, tell them. Say I’ll be in tomorrow and…” She lowered her eyelids and shook her head. “I’ll pay them for the lost time.” She sighed. “There go any profits.”
    She told me how and where to call, and I agreed.
    “Tell them I can’t be reached,” she said. I agreed to that, too. But I had great reservations, because I suspected that to fill the waiting time, the assistant might have already looked at the front page of the newspaper and figured out what was delaying Sasha.
    When I finally did call the assistant, I told her that Sasha had been called away. That part seemed true, although hauled away would have been more accurate. I said she’d be gone three days, to give Sasha and the legal system some slack.
    And that was that for the jailhouse visit, except that as she was being escorted away, Sasha half turned. “I forgot. The woman in the sari?” she said. “She had on sandals and a gold toe ring. Is that the kind of thing you want?”
    If ever an accessory committed a crime, Sasha would be a perfect witness.
    * * *
    I relayed the bits and pieces Sasha had offered up to Mackenzie, then told him I wanted to go back to the casino. I wanted my earthly possessions back and that room of my own that Virginia Woolf said all women needed. She had also mentioned a small annuity, which wouldn’t be bad, but I doubted that the hotel would provide it.
    The situation was stupid, perverse. What was I doing in a lavish Atlantic City hotel now that Sasha was bedding down in a cell? But how could I leave town while she was imprisoned—or afford to stay, once the saltwater taffy people noticed that their photographer was missing in action?
    “No problem,” Mackenzie said in his off-in-space voice. “Gonna find me that Farmer boy, meantime. It’s too easy for them to think she made him up.”
    “How?” I asked. “Can the police find the addresses of unlisted phones?”
    He raised one