The Same Mistake Twice (7 page)

“Okay, that’s three, and I’m tired of it. I was trying not to say this, but the hell with it. I think there’s more than one whore in this discussion.”

“How dare you,” said Mrs. Krol. “I have friends. Respectable gentlemen friends. They give me presents sometimes, but I don’t just let them pay me.”

“Is that smart or stupid? Anyway, you made up for it, having them around the house all the time. From what I understand, you hustle one out just in time for the next to arrive. Whatever else I do, I don’t work at home. I don’t rub anybody’s face in it.”

Mrs. Krol deflated.

“I can’t believe he would talk about me like that,” she whispered. “I could never get him to understand. His father was never going to come back, and we had to do what we could with what we had.”

“Then why can’t you understand me?” said Diana. “I’m working with what I have.”

“Kurt would have taken care of you.”

“When was he going to start? Waiting for him to finish four years of college was one thing. But once they get on the jail treadmill, they might get off it again, but you’d better not wait around for it to happen.”

“But that only happened because of you!”

Diana began to feel that she had gone too far. She looked at the other woman and saw little difference between them—twenty years of dubious experience and a heavier load of self-deception.

“He never talked about you much,” said Diana.

Great, she thought, that will make her feel better.

But she forged on, trying to undo the damage.

“This is just what I think. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong. He’d kill me if he thought I had gotten a poor opinion of you from him.”

Mrs. Krol gave her floundering the attention it deserved. She tossed her icepack onto the kitchen table. Melt water spread over the tabletop. Mrs. Krol stood up and tried to put her coat on without using her left arm. She finally had to let Diana drape the coat over her left shoulder, although she obviously hated to accept help.

She opened her mouth to speak.

“Don’t say whore,” said Diana. “And if you come after me again, I won’t let it go.”

Mrs. Krol went silently to the door, opened it, and started down the stairs.

“Have somebody look at your elbow,” said Diana.

Chapter Eleven

If Kurt ever got out of prison, maybe he and Anne-Marie could make a life together. Or not. There wouldn’t be a lot of communication going on in a partnership like that.

On the other hand, according to what some clients told Diana about their wives, lack of communication was the only thing that kept the marriage going.

She got up from the kitchen table again. This time nothing would stop her from going to the phone. Now that she had her self-flagellating mood really working, she might as well lose a client. She marched herself across the room to the phone, picked it up, and punched in numbers.

“Otto, it’s Diana.”

His silence said a lot along the lines of, “I pay you to come when I want you and disappear when I don’t. Why are you behaving like a wife?”

She talked to fill the void.

“I need a favor. There was a guy I went to high school with, name of Paul Riemenschneider. I’m guessing he’s a relative?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Can I ask you to trust me on this? We’ve known each other a long time, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Did I ever do anything sleazy?”

She hoped he knew about other hookers. There were always a few who made things difficult for everyone else in the business. Some grabbed the money and ran. Others showed up too drunk or stoned or distraught to perform, while still others got dim-witted ideas about blackmail. It didn’t take much to look good in comparison.

“No. Okay, he’s my cousin.”

“I need to ask him about a guy he might know.”

“Is this guy giving you problems?”

“Yeah.” In a way, it was true.

“In that case…”

“Are you close enough to give him a call, you know, smooth the way for me?”

“Yeah, we get along.”

“Thanks, Otto. I’m going to owe you big time.”

“I can see a problem, though. I mean, however this goes down, I’m going to know your real name.”

“The Diana is real, anyway.”

“No kidding. I never knew a…anyone who used her real name.”

“I know,” she said. “The rest is Andrews.”

There went her first line of defense, if Otto had a weirdo inside him waiting to come out.

“So what should I tell him about how I know you? I mean, you probably don’t want to broadcast what you do for a living. Neither do I, come to think of it.”

Diana should have thought that one through before calling. One idea occurred to her. Otto looked reasonably fit, but she had never felt any real muscle on him.

“Would it be too ridiculous to say you’re trying to get into shape? I do some personal training. But if you’d rather die than work out, and everybody knows that…”

“No, that’s a good idea.”

Otto paused.

“Does this mean you’re through with me?”

“I hope not, Otto. I always figured you for a guy I could trust.”

He grunted, but it came out sounding pleased. She had met few men who didn’t enjoy feeling special.

“Hold on a second.” He set the phone down on a hard surface. A minute later he picked it up again. “Here’s his work number. He works at the DMV, but I’m hoping you won’t hold that against him.”

“Furthest thing from my mind, Otto.”

“I’ll call him right now, let him know you’ll be in touch.”

She thanked him again and hung up. She decided to wait a half hour and try Paul Riemenschneider.

Otto’s cousin picked the phone up after one ring.

“Hi. This is Diana Andrews. We were in high school together…?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” said Paul. “I remember you. I almost hope you don’t remember me, because I was pretty annoying.”

Diana made a face. His words meant that she could have skipped the call to Otto.

“I, um, doubt you were that bad.”

“Thanks for the white lie. I was the little guy with the pimples—the one you bumped into every time you turned around.”

“I’m definitely drawing a blank on that.”

“That’s cool. It means maybe I have a chance.”

He put a joking tone into his comment, but something serious lurked underneath.

Oh hell, she thought.

She reminded herself to keep that thought to herself. She needed his help.

“I need to ask you about a guy from Driscoll. You might have known him better than I did.”

“Who would that be?”

“Dexter Grogan,” she said.

Silence.

“Not my favorite topic.”

He sounded ready to hang up.

“You know him from football, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He might be a problem for me. I’m hoping you’re willing to help.”

“A problem? That I can believe.”

“How so?”

“You know,” he said, “I’m not comfortable talking about this in the office. Too many people around.”

“Have you had lunch yet?”

She looked at the clock. It was almost two, and she realized she was hungry.

“I don’t usually get away for lunch.”

“Could you? On me?”

“I guess. I wouldn’t have time for anything but the food court at the mall, though.”

They hung up. Paul hadn’t argued about who was treating. It must cost him to think about Dexter Grogan.

She drove down Route 15, past the diner, to the mall in Jefferson. The food court was two-thirds full, which would produce enough noise to cover their conversation.

Five minutes later Paul arrived. He had filled out since high school, but she recognized him. She must have seen more of him than she remembered.

He stopped and looked uncertain how demonstrative he should be. She reached her hand out and shook his before he had completely extended it.

He felt like pizza, which was okay with her. They got on line.

“How’s your grandmother?” he asked.

His smile looked genuine, and she gave him points for it.

“Not so good. I had to find a nursing home a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I always looked forward to lunch, and not for the food. I probably don’t have to tell you—that could be pretty disgusting. But everybody always looked forward to kidding around with Mrs. Petroski. She always had the latest slang down. It was hilarious, coming from her.”

Diana laughed.

“She got more attention from the boys than I did.”

They spent more than enough time waiting for their slices to exhaust the people they had both known in high school. It was true—she had paid little attention to younger boys.

“When you broke the school record for the backstroke? I was there.”

That tone was back in his voice.

“You and about eleven other people,” she said.

She usually knew how to lighten things up when a client got too serious, but this time her effort fell flat.

She paid for the pizza, and they took their trays to a nearby table near the windows overlooking the parking lot.

“So you knew Dexter Grogan. I get the idea that you weren’t happy about it.”

“You got that right.”

“What was his problem?”

“His problem was, he liked beating people up. Notice I didn’t say fighting. I said beating people up.”

“Were you one of the people he beat up?”

“Mostly I stayed under his radar. One time in the locker room, I tried making a joke when he was talking, and he offered to punch my head off. But that was the only time he noticed me.”

Diana watched Paul brood.

Nobody ever gets out of high school alive, she thought.

“But other guys weren’t so lucky?”

“No, he beat the hell out of a couple of guys on the team. Which really pissed me off. That’s not what a team is supposed to be about.”

“So Don Rennert put up with it? I thought the quarterback is supposed to be the team leader.”

“Hell, he was afraid of Dexter.”

“I heard they were friends.”

“As much as jerks like that know how to have friends. Don was the kind of guy who sucked up to bullies, like he wished he could be one of them. Matter of fact, that’s…What kind of trouble is he giving you?”

Diana decided to keep it vague for the moment.

“Something he did back then might be coming back to life.”

“That I can believe,” said Paul. “You mean about James?”

A strange mixture of dread and eagerness radiated from him.

“Right, James.”

She restrained herself from wincing at the phoniness of her tone, which he obviously noticed.

“You don’t know, do you?”

She wanted to shake him, but he looked as if he regretted saying even that much. She tried to draw it out of him with her eyes.

“Paul, just tell me. I’m guessing he messed this James up.”

Paul stared down at the tabletop.

“Or maybe he did more than that?”

She could see him editing his memories and deciding what to say, but there wasn’t much she could do to stop him.

“Did you know James Zakrewsky?” he said.

The words rushed out, once he had decided to name the name.

“I’m thinking.”

She shook her head.

“I’m not coming up with anything, but if he’s your age, I wouldn’t, would I?”

Whoops, she thought.

Paul looked offended, and she wanted to shake him. Instead, she leaned toward him until she felt the warmth of his face, which meant that he would feel hers. If she knew men, he would stop thinking and start trying to get even closer.

“Paul, this could be important.”

“I didn’t really know him well,” Paul said. “I don’t think anyone did.”

“So what about him and the other two?”

“I heard Dexter and Don messed him up. That was the rumor. He never came back to school for sophomore year.”

There it was. She almost ran to the pay phones to call Tillotson, but she decided to get the whole story first.

“So this was the summer of ’eighty-seven?”

“Right. We were having ‘voluntary’ practice, because supposedly the coach couldn’t call official practices until September. Voluntary, my butt. Nobody who missed them would ever get to play. Not that I ever played anyway. One year of JV was enough for me.”

Again she felt like getting rough with him. Instead she waited for him to finish.

“How did it happen?”

“I told you what Dexter is like. He’s a bully. Don wanted to be just like him, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t brutal enough, and he didn’t know how to pick his shots.”

“What’s that mean?”

“He didn’t know how to avoid a guy who could give him a real fight. Dexter never made that mistake. Don picked James, and it turned out James was the wrong guy. That was the rumor, anyway.”

“So Don got his butt kicked and went crying to Dexter?”

“That would be my guess. And they went looking for James. And the rumor was, they found him. Since nobody ever saw him again, they must have gone too far with him.”

Shooting him in the head was definitely going too far. Unfortunately, it made sense.

“You never told anybody?” said Diana.

“Would you?”

“Maybe not,” she said. “Kids that age get pretty tribal, as I recall. Adults aren’t in the tribe.”

And the moment she graduated, she had joined the adults.

“But you’re not a kid anymore, Paul. Since you’re here, I think you know it’s time to speak up for James.”

He was closing down. She could see it.

“And it’s time to make Dexter and Don take responsibility. I think that’s also why you’re here.”

Paul sat sullenly for another moment.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he said.

He lurched to his feet, as if he couldn’t wait to get away.

“It won’t go away, Paul.”

She watched him go. After a moment she got up and bused their trays, which she hadn’t expected to do. A well-mannered young man who also wanted to get into her pants would normally have taken care of that chore.

I blew that one, she thought.

Chapter Twelve