The Snake Tattoo Read Online Free PDF Page B

four-thirty. I told him not to worry about the noise.
    â€œI’d like to hire you,” the kid said, his words blurred through towel and ice. “To investigate. Like on the card. You do that, right?”
    I sank into one of my mismatched kitchen chairs, the one with the split vinyl seat, and made a reassuring noise to contrast with my appearance. My bathrobe is not recommended interviewing-a-prospective-client-wear; it looks like a bright red chenille bedspread, stitched together on the sides. I love red, but I don’t usually wear it in public because it clashes with my hair.
    Under the robe I was wearing a white singlet T-shirt, which is my favorite nightwear because it’s soft and doesn’t scratch. I got in the habit of wearing my husband’s T-shirts to bed when I was married. No matter what alluring nightie I started out in, by the middle of the night I’d give up and go back to the old reliables. Lace itches. When we split up he left me a drawerful. I threw them out and bought replacements. It didn’t seem right to get rid of Cal and keep his shirts.
    I adjusted the robe over my crossed knees. Usually when I’m interviewing a client, I dress okay, nothing fancy, but okay. There I sat, 5:22 A.M., in my beat-up bathrobe, feeling like the “before” illustration in a “Dress for Success” manual.
    On the other hand, the kid’s appearance made his plea for help seem urgent. His jeans were muddy, his shirt torn. He said “excuse me” before he headed to the tiny half-bath to tend his lip in privacy. When he returned his face was pale but his hair was neatly combed. He’d probably been careful not to bleed in the sink.
    It didn’t seem right to tell him to come back at nine just so I could dress up.
    â€œLook,” he said, “I need to find this girl, Valerie Haslam.” That much came out clear and strong. Then his voice started to falter, and he sat down and addressed the tabletop. “She’s, she’s this girl I know. We go to the same school. She’s, like, lived across the street from me forever … and we’re, like, friends, you know.”
    â€œMaybe you should tell me your name,” I said, handing him a flesh ice cube.
    â€œShit, I mean, excuse me, I forgot. I’m Jeremy, Jerry, I mean, Jeremy’s a dumb name. My friends call me Jerry. Jerry Toland.” He stuck out the hand that had been holding the ice pack. I almost screamed when I shook it, it was so cold.
    â€œValerie isn’t, like, the kind of girl who runs away, I mean who just takes off and doesn’t say anything. I mean, she’d have said good-bye or something. But everybody says she hasn’t been gone long, and maybe she just left on her own, and girls that age are more mature, and maybe she went to New York for the week. I mean, they don’t seem all that interested, you know, like she’s one more missing piece of luggage. Her mom’s not home, and the guidance counselor says it’s none of my business. I guess I could have gone to the Lincoln Police, but she’s not in Lincoln anymore, and I can’t see those guys doing anything real, you know, about getting her back.”
    â€œHow old are you, Jerry?” I said.
    He bristled. “What’s that got to do with it?”
    â€œHow old?”
    â€œLook, do me a favor. Don’t tell me how it will be all better when I’m older and that shit. I mean you can’t be that much older than I am, so don’t bother telling me that shit.”
    Every time the kid swore, he looked at me to see if I was going to faint. When he said shit it came out like it had quotation marks around it. Maybe he’d decided to swear as proof of his advanced age. He should hear the ten-year-olds at Paolina’s housing project.
    â€œIt’s about contracts, Jerry,” I said. “I do what I do for a living, to pay my bills.”
    â€œWell, don’t