tightly around her. Blinking white Christmas lights were still strung over the bar.
The last time Alex and Reena had seen Chloe was Thursday night. Reena and Alex stayed home and watched TV. “We’re like an old married couple,” Reena said, a little embarrassed. Chloe came home at about midnight. Ace Apocalypse, the filmmaker she worked for, was making a documentary about a band called Vanishing Center. The movie was called
The End of the World.
Chloe and Reena exchanged a few words and Chloe went to bed. A few minutes later Alex walked home. He had to get up early the next day—he worked in construction—and it was Reena’s day off and she wanted to sleep in. At eleven the next morning the ringing phone woke her up.
It was Ace Apocalypse. He was wondering where Chloe was. She hadn’t shown up to work. Reena went to Chloe’s bedroom, planning to wake her up. But Chloe wasn’t there.
Reena was a little worried but not excessively so, she told us.
“I mean, shit happens, right?” she said through a cloud of Camel smoke. “I mean, maybe she decided to call in sick or whatever and go have a fun day. And Ace, he’s
cra
-zy. Crazy mad fucked-up guy. So I’m thinking maybe he’s got the wrong day or time or whatever, and Chloe’s out waiting for him in Queens somewhere or wherever, right? And when I saw her, she didn’t actually say she was going to work the next day. I just assumed. So, you know. It wasn’t a really big deal.”
“And then we didn’t see her Friday night,” Alex said. He looked as concerned as Reena. I made a note in my notebook (
Alex: good boyfriend
)
.
“Obviously. So that was when it first started to seem, you know, a little weird. We called Ben—”
“That’s this guy she used to date,” Reena interjected. “Do you guys know him? He’s a bartender at the Horseshoe Bar over on Seventh and B?”
I nodded.
“A little,” Kelly said. “Go on.”
Ben, Horseshoe
, I wrote down.
Ex-boyfriend.
“Right,” Reena said. “They used to date, but as far as I know, they hadn’t seen each other for a while. But I figured, you know, it was worth a try?”
We three detectives nodded encouragingly; yes, it had certainly been worth a try.
“He hadn’t talked to her in, like, forever.” Reena went on. “But, well, we were worried, but we didn’t want to be ridiculous. I mean, we’re all grownups, right? It’s not like she has a curfew or anything. It’s not like we’re her parents. But then on Sunday, her friend Rain calls and leaves this long, pissed-off message on the answering machine. I guess Chloe was supposed to see her that night, they had this big night planned, to have dinner and see a movie at Theatre Eighty.”
“What movie?” I asked.
Reena looked at me. “What movie? Why would that matter?”
“Everything matters,” Tracy assured her.
Theatre 80
, I wrote in my book.
Sunday, evening show.
Reena shrugged. “I don’t know. But they hadn’t seen each other in a while, and neither of them had a boyfriend, so they decided to make a thing of it. I called Rain and asked her. They were supposed to meet at Dojo’s for dinner at six thirty and then see the movie at eight and then probably go out afterward. But Chloe never showed up, never called, nothing.”
“When did they make the plans?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Reena said. “I didn’t ask.”
“That’s not like her,” Alex said. “That’s
totally
not like her.”
“That’s pretty much it,” Reena said. “We didn’t find out anything at all. We don’t want to call the cops—”
“But we will,” Alex said. “If you think we should.”
“Yeah, we will,” Reena said. “But we’d rather not.” The police were not to be counted on for help, and besides, at any given moment we were each engaged in at least a few illegal acts—at the moment, underage drinking and smoking. “After we talked to Rain we decided we’d give it one more day before we freaked out. So then on
The last time Alex and Reena had seen Chloe was Thursday night. Reena and Alex stayed home and watched TV. “We’re like an old married couple,” Reena said, a little embarrassed. Chloe came home at about midnight. Ace Apocalypse, the filmmaker she worked for, was making a documentary about a band called Vanishing Center. The movie was called
The End of the World.
Chloe and Reena exchanged a few words and Chloe went to bed. A few minutes later Alex walked home. He had to get up early the next day—he worked in construction—and it was Reena’s day off and she wanted to sleep in. At eleven the next morning the ringing phone woke her up.
It was Ace Apocalypse. He was wondering where Chloe was. She hadn’t shown up to work. Reena went to Chloe’s bedroom, planning to wake her up. But Chloe wasn’t there.
Reena was a little worried but not excessively so, she told us.
“I mean, shit happens, right?” she said through a cloud of Camel smoke. “I mean, maybe she decided to call in sick or whatever and go have a fun day. And Ace, he’s
cra
-zy. Crazy mad fucked-up guy. So I’m thinking maybe he’s got the wrong day or time or whatever, and Chloe’s out waiting for him in Queens somewhere or wherever, right? And when I saw her, she didn’t actually say she was going to work the next day. I just assumed. So, you know. It wasn’t a really big deal.”
“And then we didn’t see her Friday night,” Alex said. He looked as concerned as Reena. I made a note in my notebook (
Alex: good boyfriend
)
.
“Obviously. So that was when it first started to seem, you know, a little weird. We called Ben—”
“That’s this guy she used to date,” Reena interjected. “Do you guys know him? He’s a bartender at the Horseshoe Bar over on Seventh and B?”
I nodded.
“A little,” Kelly said. “Go on.”
Ben, Horseshoe
, I wrote down.
Ex-boyfriend.
“Right,” Reena said. “They used to date, but as far as I know, they hadn’t seen each other for a while. But I figured, you know, it was worth a try?”
We three detectives nodded encouragingly; yes, it had certainly been worth a try.
“He hadn’t talked to her in, like, forever.” Reena went on. “But, well, we were worried, but we didn’t want to be ridiculous. I mean, we’re all grownups, right? It’s not like she has a curfew or anything. It’s not like we’re her parents. But then on Sunday, her friend Rain calls and leaves this long, pissed-off message on the answering machine. I guess Chloe was supposed to see her that night, they had this big night planned, to have dinner and see a movie at Theatre Eighty.”
“What movie?” I asked.
Reena looked at me. “What movie? Why would that matter?”
“Everything matters,” Tracy assured her.
Theatre 80
, I wrote in my book.
Sunday, evening show.
Reena shrugged. “I don’t know. But they hadn’t seen each other in a while, and neither of them had a boyfriend, so they decided to make a thing of it. I called Rain and asked her. They were supposed to meet at Dojo’s for dinner at six thirty and then see the movie at eight and then probably go out afterward. But Chloe never showed up, never called, nothing.”
“When did they make the plans?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Reena said. “I didn’t ask.”
“That’s not like her,” Alex said. “That’s
totally
not like her.”
“That’s pretty much it,” Reena said. “We didn’t find out anything at all. We don’t want to call the cops—”
“But we will,” Alex said. “If you think we should.”
“Yeah, we will,” Reena said. “But we’d rather not.” The police were not to be counted on for help, and besides, at any given moment we were each engaged in at least a few illegal acts—at the moment, underage drinking and smoking. “After we talked to Rain we decided we’d give it one more day before we freaked out. So then on
Similar Books
