Page 53 of Skin Game
Heidi’s handwriting was loopy but clear and fairly easy to read. To Gabe, it seemed similar to her handwriting as an adult. The entries were benign, Heidi declaring on page one that she was going to write every day. She managed that for about a month, then the entries slowed to two or three times a week. Heidi recorded daily life, what it was like being a sophomore in high school, the teachers, her school assignments, etcetera. It was almost a calendar rather than a diary.
There were no entries with heart-rending confessions of young love, crushes, or friend group issues, which did not shock Gabe. The Heidi he’d known had not been sentimental. She could turn on the charm when needed, and it rarely failed, but Heidi didn’t waste time bellyaching. Heidi moved on.
She also didn’t name names, which Gabe found incredibly irritating.
“Come on, Heidi. Not one ‘Eli Rizzi is a pig’? I need some hints.”
The second notebook was similar to the first: boring. Gabe wondered why Heidi had bothered. Maybe it had become habit for her? He certainly had no memories of his mother spendingher evenings jotting down what had happened during her day. If she’d been a diarist as a teen, it was something she’d stopped. If that was the case, why? If she hadn’t, was he going to get another letter leading to boxes sometime in the future? Gabe shuddered.
His eyes started to water. Gabe rubbed them and, with a sigh, picked up a third notebook. The beginning date on this one was September 1977. Heidi had stopped including the days of the week by that point, just a date and whatever she thought important enough to jot down.
Landed the job.
Gabe at first thought she was talking about working for Elton. But an entry two pages later disabused him of that idea.
Found a secret door!
There were no secret doors. Elton had sold his wares from a booth at summer fairs. Gabe’s exhaustion vanished. Quickly, he flipped through the pages to see if anything else leapt out at him.
“Really, Mom, would it have hurt you to add a bit more detail?”
He found it striking that even at sixteen or seventeen years old, Heidi was already extremely careful about what kind of information she left behind. It was almost as if she’d been born that way.
Ortrained.
As a child, Gabe had never questioned his mother’s choice of careers. After all, food on the table was a good thing, and he didn’t understand that Heidi was usually bending the law. As an adult, he hadn’t questioned it either. They’d often worked together, a sort of family affair.
Once a grifter, always a grifter.Kinda sorta. Gabe was doing his best to leave that part of his life behind. Now it was becoming clear, or at least less opaque, that Heidi had spent her early years learning the art of the swindle. And she’d passed that knowledge on to Gabriel.
“Come on, I need more. Where was this job? What was up with the door?”
Flipping back to the first page, Gabe reread each entry. Maybe he’d missed a reference. He had not.
“Jesus Christ.”
There were fewer notes in this book. Almost, for instance, like she’d gotten a part-time job and didn’t have as much time on her hands. Gabe did find it amusing that many entries were a variation ofit rained today.
Not that Gabe had read many teenaged girl’s diaries, but he’d kind of expectedhad a fight with my mom, she’s dumb. He tried to imagine what he would’ve written about, and the answer was that Gabe wasn’t the type to write shit down. And Heidi was the one who had taught him not to.
The last remotely interesting record was sometime in June of 1978, not long before he was assuming that Holly became Heidi.
He came into the store again today!
Hehad been circled several times. Gabe squinted. It looked to him like the circle had first been a heart shape and then Heidi had done her best to obliterate it.
Gabe set the book down again and blew out a big breath of air. What the hell? Why did he have the feeling thatHewas David Delacombe? Was it possible that David Delacombe had been a part of whatever Heidi had gotten herself involved in? Gabe didn’t think the idea was farfetched. From what he understood, David Delacombe had never been a paragon of virtue, not even close. Of course, if that was the case, that meant Heidi’s from-beyond-the-grave letter hadn’t exactly been truthful.
“Twenty when you met, Heidi? Really?”
Patting various pockets to search for his phone and not finding it, Gabe spun in a circle until he finally spotted the device just where he’d left it, next to the blessed caffeine machine. Snatching it up, he opened his contact list and stared at the screen for a moment, then pressed Call.
Shay Delacombe answered after three rings with a smooth, “Gabriel, how are things?”
“Ridiculous, as seems to generally be the case with me.”
“Are you calling for legal help?” Shay asked with a chuckle. “I can offer a friends and family discount.”
“Not really. Thanks though. I have a question about, er, our father, and I figure you or maybe Claribel are the only ones who might be able to answer it.”