W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone 23)

“Makes me happy I’m an only child.”

“Too bad she’s not.”

The waitress appeared with a small tray, on which she’d placed two shot glasses of tequila and another margarita that she set in front of Ellen’s empty chair. When Anna and Ellen returned from the ladies’ room, I watched Ellen toss back the first shot without blinking an eye. She sat down, picked up her margarita, and took two swallows of the icy lime slush before she set it down again. I kept an eye on her. Tequila can make a mean drunk. I’ve seen grown men break chairs and punch through walls. I didn’t think she’d turn combative, but it was clear she liked getting right down to it. Watching her drink was like watching roses bloom by way of time-lapse photography. After one drink, her reticence faded and she seemed to open up. After two drinks, she was outgoing, sunny, and willing to talk about anything. My guess was by drink three, she’d wilt, and by the fourth, she’d fall apart.

Hank and Anna went off to play pool, and I shifted my chair so I could talk to Ellen without raising my voice. The bar was still quiet, though a handful of patrons had begun to wander in. As much as I dreaded introducing the subject of Dace, I figured I might as well get it over with. I didn’t think it was necessary to go back over the fact that I’d never met the man. Ethan and Anna would have hammered that point home.

In a situation like this, I don’t like to manipulate unless all else has failed. I don’t mind shaping the conversation, but I prefer to create an atmosphere wherein people can speak their minds instead of saying what they think I want to hear. Small talk has the virtue of being indirect, carving out a space within a space where anything can occur. I did feel I should prime the pump. I caught her eye. “Anna says you had a big family powwow. You have any questions?”

“Not especially. You know . . .” The sentence trailed off. I doubted she was going anywhere with the phrase.

“I wanted to make sure you knew about the hearing in December. This is Santa Teresa probate court, and the purpose is to give you the opportunity to challenge the terms of his will if that’s what you decide to do.”

“I don’t care about that. Ethan and Anna might, but I don’t.” No eye contact, but she’d managed two consecutive sentences, which I took as a good sign.

“I’ve told both of them it would be smart to consult with an attorney before you make a decision.”

She picked up the second shot glass and tossed that down, then flicked me a look. Her eyes were the same blue as Anna’s, but not as large. The net effect was that she seemed sincere where I knew now for a fact Anna was blowing smoke up my skirt.

Daintily, she touched at the corners of her mouth. “You know what bothers me? My dad never got to meet my kids. This last time when he showed up? Hank and I were in Yosemite on a camping trip. We got home Sunday night and Daddy’d come and gone, so I only heard about it after. Ethan spit on him. Did he tell you that?”

I shook my head. “I knew there was a tiff.”

“He spit right in Daddy’s face. He told me about it like he was proud of himself. Anna treated Daddy like shit. She treats all guys like shit, but she got in the habit with him.”

“What’s all the hostility about?”

“Ethan’s protective of Mom and Anna goes along. They both think anything bad in life is Daddy’s fault.”

“How does your mother feel?”

“She hates his guts. She won’t admit it, but it’s true.”

“Anna says she’s remarried. What’s your stepdad like?”

“Gilbert built her this big new house. You’d think she’d be happy, but she’s not.”

“That’s too bad. Wonder what the problem is?”

“It didn’t work out like she expected. Gilbert has money and she thought he was the answer to her prayers.”

“So what went wrong?”

“Nothing in particular. She expected life would be better and it’s still the same.”

“Had she known him long?”

“I guess. They met at church. After Daddy went to prison, she and Gilbert left that church and joined this other one. She said people were talking behind her back.”

“You like him?”

“He’s good with my kids.”

“What’s the rest of it?”

“He’s a pantywaist.”

I laughed because the word was so unexpected. “What about your dad? What was he like?”

“You know what? He was just the sweetest man. Even when he was drunk, he didn’t turn mean or spiteful or anything like that. I know he lost control over his drinking, especially at the end. Maybe I should be mad at him, but I’m not. After he got hurt, he was in a lot of pain. You knew he had a bad fall?”