shimmies her shoulders, which I take it means yes. She seems to have a whole set of moves. Pumping her fist up and down means, Drive! Putting her hands together in prayer means, Please stop asking me questions.
“I was going to order strawberry anyway,” she says when she comes up for air. “My mother says I should try every kind.”
“Well,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at Lyle Kenzie, “she certainly practises what she preaches.” I lower my voice. “Do you know the man in the black baseball hat?”
“He’s been over at our trailer.”
“Farewell to Nova Scotia” is playing on the jukebox and it’s stuck on the line “But still there was no rest for me … But still there was no rest for me … But still there was no rest for me …” Janis hops down, picks up a hammer lying next to the machine and gives the side of the jukebox a good whack. It skips to the next song.
“That’s what the hammer’s there for,” she tells me.
I keep my eye on Lyle Kenzie as he puts on his jacket. He’s staring right back at me.
“Sit tight a minute, okay?” I tell Janis. I get up and walk outside.
Lyle pauses in the doorway a moment before letting the screen creak closed. “You looking for me?” He adjusts the pasty beer gut flopping over the waistband of his jeans and reaches into a grease-stained shirt pocket for cigarettes.
“I’m looking for Poppy Saint.”
“You and me both.” He lights a smoke, jams his lighter back in his pocket.
“My name is Opal Kent. I work for the police department.” I try not to blink. Opal Kent was one of my favourite characters when I lived in a group home and got addicted to soaps. She had steel-blue eyes and a matching blazer.
“You’re a cop?”
“I’m a private investigator working with the Jubilant Police Department.”
He sneers and starts walking away toward a new Ford truck.
I follow him and say, “Miss Saint should be easy to find, but if you want to make it easier by giving me an address or a phone number, I’ll put you down as a false lead. I’ve been watching that garage for two days now, and I think you know what I mean when I say that I wouldn’t want to have to disclose what goes on in there. The cops are only interested in Poppy at this point.”
It’s a stab in the dark, but Jody’s must be the base for something shady, because Lyle blinks like crazy for a few seconds then goes into his truck and scrawls something on a piece of paper. He comes back and shoves it at me. “I don’t know anything about what she’s been up to and if she says I do, she’s a fucking liar.”
He glances in the rear-view at least four times as he pulls away. I stand watching until the roar of his souped-up engine fades down the road. Then I go back inside and slide in across from Janis.
“That was easy,” I say.
She slurps her straw on the bottom of her empty glass. “Mama said that Lyle’s about as bright as the hooks on Grandma’s bra.”
I glance down at the table. The Tater Dots arrived while I was outside and now they’re just a plate of crumbs. I sigh and scoop some up with my fingers. “Grandma’s still alive?”
“You just talked to her last night. Wasn’t no ghost.”
“Oh, right. I thought you meant my grandma.”
“Great-Grandma Jean? She choked on a Mars bar and died at the table.”
“You were there?”
“Nope, it wasn’t our table. She never lived with us. She does now, though. She’s in a box in our trailer.”
“What?”
“They took her to the fire place and burned her up so she looked like dirt. Once Swimmer was driving his Dinky trucks through her on the kitchen floor. We had to scoop her back into the box, and now there’s a few Cheerios in there with her.”
“Janis, you are a source of information.”
M A IS WAITING FOR US OUTSIDE THE TRAILER. S EEING her shocks me all over again. She looks like she’s wearing an old-lady costume. When Janis runs inside to show off to Swimmer about her fingernails, I
“I was going to order strawberry anyway,” she says when she comes up for air. “My mother says I should try every kind.”
“Well,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at Lyle Kenzie, “she certainly practises what she preaches.” I lower my voice. “Do you know the man in the black baseball hat?”
“He’s been over at our trailer.”
“Farewell to Nova Scotia” is playing on the jukebox and it’s stuck on the line “But still there was no rest for me … But still there was no rest for me … But still there was no rest for me …” Janis hops down, picks up a hammer lying next to the machine and gives the side of the jukebox a good whack. It skips to the next song.
“That’s what the hammer’s there for,” she tells me.
I keep my eye on Lyle Kenzie as he puts on his jacket. He’s staring right back at me.
“Sit tight a minute, okay?” I tell Janis. I get up and walk outside.
Lyle pauses in the doorway a moment before letting the screen creak closed. “You looking for me?” He adjusts the pasty beer gut flopping over the waistband of his jeans and reaches into a grease-stained shirt pocket for cigarettes.
“I’m looking for Poppy Saint.”
“You and me both.” He lights a smoke, jams his lighter back in his pocket.
“My name is Opal Kent. I work for the police department.” I try not to blink. Opal Kent was one of my favourite characters when I lived in a group home and got addicted to soaps. She had steel-blue eyes and a matching blazer.
“You’re a cop?”
“I’m a private investigator working with the Jubilant Police Department.”
He sneers and starts walking away toward a new Ford truck.
I follow him and say, “Miss Saint should be easy to find, but if you want to make it easier by giving me an address or a phone number, I’ll put you down as a false lead. I’ve been watching that garage for two days now, and I think you know what I mean when I say that I wouldn’t want to have to disclose what goes on in there. The cops are only interested in Poppy at this point.”
It’s a stab in the dark, but Jody’s must be the base for something shady, because Lyle blinks like crazy for a few seconds then goes into his truck and scrawls something on a piece of paper. He comes back and shoves it at me. “I don’t know anything about what she’s been up to and if she says I do, she’s a fucking liar.”
He glances in the rear-view at least four times as he pulls away. I stand watching until the roar of his souped-up engine fades down the road. Then I go back inside and slide in across from Janis.
“That was easy,” I say.
She slurps her straw on the bottom of her empty glass. “Mama said that Lyle’s about as bright as the hooks on Grandma’s bra.”
I glance down at the table. The Tater Dots arrived while I was outside and now they’re just a plate of crumbs. I sigh and scoop some up with my fingers. “Grandma’s still alive?”
“You just talked to her last night. Wasn’t no ghost.”
“Oh, right. I thought you meant my grandma.”
“Great-Grandma Jean? She choked on a Mars bar and died at the table.”
“You were there?”
“Nope, it wasn’t our table. She never lived with us. She does now, though. She’s in a box in our trailer.”
“What?”
“They took her to the fire place and burned her up so she looked like dirt. Once Swimmer was driving his Dinky trucks through her on the kitchen floor. We had to scoop her back into the box, and now there’s a few Cheerios in there with her.”
“Janis, you are a source of information.”
M A IS WAITING FOR US OUTSIDE THE TRAILER. S EEING her shocks me all over again. She looks like she’s wearing an old-lady costume. When Janis runs inside to show off to Swimmer about her fingernails, I
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