Loose Lips by Rae Davies

a fixture in Helena and how he was a
true Montanan, that it would be a shame to have some fly–by–night
operation cause him to close his doors. “Especially one that was
making its money off their employees’ assets and not their
coffee.”
    I didn’t know why the last had come out.
Maybe Phyllis was dead and haunting us. I glanced at Betty. She
looked away, expeditiously.
    “Assets?”
    I stared at him. I knew he knew what I
meant. He’d seen the Cuties. I held out my hands, ready to mime my
response, but Betty broke in.
    “Bubs,” she said. “Big ones. Not a Jane
there under... What would you say, Lucy? A double D?” She opened
and closed her eyes his direction, in a perfect Betty Boop
imitation and then smiled.
    A moment of confusion flitted over his
face.
    “Boobs,” I translated.
    He nodded. “That what this was about?” He
pointed at the newspaper article.
    Betty shrugged. It seemed like the safest
response so I followed suit. “You’d have to ask them,” I
answered.
    “Or you friend Phyllis, if I could find
her.”
    After that, he left. I couldn’t say I was
sorry to see him go. If Betty was, she didn’t mention it. Instead,
I filled her in on Kiska and what the vet had said. When we were
done discussing that, our conversation turned back to Klein, the
dead Cutie and Phyllis.
    “Where do you think she is?” I asked.
    She shook her head. “If she’d been going
back to Texas, she would have told someone. Besides, that Chicago
G–man would know if she had.”
    “What about Stanley? Have you talked to
him?”
    Stanley was Phyllis’ son. The two had come
to Helena together, or within a short time of each other.
    “I’m sure Klein has.”
    “Maybe, but maybe Stanley hasn’t told him
everything.”
    This was a possibility. Stanley had a
history with the Helena police that might not make him all that
open, especially if he knew they were looking for his mother in
connection with a murder.
    “Maybe Rhonda can get something out of him,”
I replied. He and Rhonda had been an “item” for a bit, until she’d
realized he was just as flawed as the other diamonds in the rough
that she’d dug up in her dating past.
    “You know...” I picked up the newspaper.
“That’s probably true for the
WIL
too. Except it wouldn’t
just be them protecting Phyllis. They’d be protecting themselves
too.”
    “Ab–so–lute–ly. You should join them.” Betty
plopped back down on the stool behind the counter and turned back
to the computer.
    “Me? Why me?”
    “You’ll blend.”
    The women in the picture were at least a
dozen or so years older than me. Besides, I knew what Betty thought
of Phyllis, and I’d seen the cheese lover in person. I wasn’t sure
she was all that balanced mentally.
    I opened my mouth to object, but my
jazz–loving employee had already shoved a pair of ear buds into her
ears and was bopping her head to some tune only she could hear.
    With a sigh, I stared down at the picture.
Just how badly did I want to find out what had happened to Phyllis?
Just how good of a friend was I?

CHAPTER SIX
    How good of a friend was I?
Three
nights later, as I walked through the deserted remains of Helena’s
older mall, I had to ask myself the question again. Only one space
was still occupied, by a shop that catered to tourists, and it had
closed at 6. The rest of the spaces were vacant, or near vacant,
with just empty, metal four–way racks scattered across their
carpeted floors and the occasional forgotten plastic bag drifting
around them.
    Unseen doors creaked, and somehow the wind
that I hadn’t noticed while outside had ratcheted up to a
scream.
    I crept along, wishing I’d brought Kiska
instead of dropping him off at Rhonda’s house on my way. Not that
my pet would have been much use against the chainsaw–massacrer that
I was sure lurked somewhere in the shadows.
    Behind me, someone cackled. I jumped three
feet and dashed into the shadows where I cowered like a blonde
co–ed hiding