Page 34 of Fade Out

Several ideas raced through my mind. First, the girl had fought back. She’d fought back hard.Well, good for her. And, Ritadidhave an accomplice. As much as I’d suspected it, knowing for sure left me uncomfortable. It was fairly obvious why he’d told D. Blanski he’d lost his wallet. He didn’t have a picture ID. Did that mean something? Had Rita lost her forger? Or were things just moving too quickly?

“He didn’t have a license and you let him withdraw money?” I asked.

“He had a temporary paper license. We don’t normally accept those but given the circumstances. Plus, he knew his social security number. By heart.”

“A paper license would be easy to forge,” I said.

She flushed from the neck up. “Are you saying he wasn’t Mr. Porter?”

“How old was he?”

“Late twenties, early thirties.”

“You didn’t check his date of birth, did you?” It would have come up on her CRT with the other account information.

“What, er, no. I guess not.” Nervously, she asked, “Porter’s an old man, isn’t he?”

I nodded. “How much did you give him?”

“Five thousand, I think. I’d have to check to be sure.”

“What did he look like, aside from being young and having a big bruise on his face?”

“He was tall.”

“Taller than me?”

“Could you stand up?” I did. She calculated. “Yes. A little bit.”

“Six four,” I guessed. “What else?”

“He had sandy hair, blue eyes, not much of a chin.”

I was a little offended. He had to be the same guy who’d used my identity to mail the dead girl. I had a chin. Not to mention, my hair was brown and my eyes were hazel. He looked nothing like me.

“Did he flirt with you?” I asked.

“Of course not. I’m a professional.”

“I didn’t ask if you flirted with him. I asked if he flirted with you.”

She thought. “He might have. I try not to notice. It’s not a good idea to get offended. And it’s an even worse idea to be flattered.”

“Any distinguishing marks? Tattoos, scars, moles, birthmarks.”

“Beady.”

“What?”

“His eyes. He had beady eyes. Like a rodent.”

This just got worse and worse. My eyes were not beady. I asked, “How was he dressed?”

“A little shabby. You might think that should have been a tip-off, but a lot of our clients dress like that. The ones who still have the first penny they ever earned.”

I took a moment trying to think of anything else that might help me.

“Am I going to lose my job?” There was real fear in her face so the next part wasn’t much of a surprise. “I’m divorced. I’ve got two teenagers. My ex stopped sending support checks years ago.”