It didn’t hurt any more, though, so as soon as she got used to walking unevenly and ignoring the odd sound effect of one clicking suede flat and one rubber-tired monster sandal, she decided she was good to go back to work.
It was a little awkward driving the car with a right foot she couldn’t feel, but she relied on exterior clues like the speedometer and made it back to South Stone without killing any bystanders. Her balance was somewhat precarious; she cursed the heavy outside doors at South Stone and waddled like a beginning toddler on the highly waxed floors inside. She watched the elevator doors close as she approached, not daring to try a last-minute jump. Waiting for the car to come back, she whispered, ‘Patience, patience,’ knowing it would never be her area of talent. She normally took the stairs.
Ollie saw her getting off on the second floor and said, ‘Sarah, you’re actually riding the … Oh!’ He looked at her big right foot in the sandal. ‘God, buddy, I really busted you up, huh? Jesus, I’m sorry. Can I help you some way?’
‘It’s not broken. I’ll be out of this lash-up in a couple of days. Just … would you mind bringing me a glass of water? No, wait – can you find me a pitcher? With ice cubes. I’m dehydrated all the way to my ankles.’ He brought it, tinkling, and she drank one whole glass before she said, ‘Thank you,’ and poured a second glass. He was still standing there, wanting to do something. ‘How are you doing with that computer?’
‘Genius Geek has it. I told him I was looking for whatever he could find that looked like what you need to run a life, and he carried it away with glad little cries.’ He quit looking sorry as his good news bubbled to the surface. ‘Then I went ahead with a routine search on Angela’s driver’s license and found when she changed it from her maiden name. Which was Goodman, by the way. Then it was Upshaw, for a couple of years, before it was Lacey. As soon as I had all that, I started finding school records and library cards, work records and apartment rentals – all that jazz. You know what? She first worked for that store more than fourteen years ago, and this is the second time she’s gone back to work there since then.’
‘I don’t know what to make of that.’
‘I don’t either. Just saying … it seems to be some kind of a home base.’
‘If I can get that manager to talk to me, maybe we’ll find out.’
Phone messages and emails were stacked up as if she’d been away from her desk a week. Prioritizing, her eye almost passed over ‘Marjorie Springer.’ Then she saw the subject line – Angela Lacey – and opened the message. ‘Got a helper starting today. Might be able to get away by tomorrow,’ it said. ‘Call me.’
She replied, ‘Out tomorrow. Will call Monday,’ and dialed the number for Teresa, the second wife of Vicente García, whom she had begun to think of as ‘the little woman.’ She had not been able to form a mental picture of the mother of two daughters as different as Pilar and Cecelia, but had an impression of Vicente, the duster-off of sons, as a dominating patriarch.
A woman answered, her musical voice retaining just a suggestion of antecedents south of the border. She listened while Sarah explained her job and reason for calling. Then she said she would be willing to come to the station someday soon, ‘when my daughter has time to give me a ride.’
‘How can you live in Marana without a car?’
‘Oh, I have one, but … you know that I’m a recent widow? Well, in the confusion of this first year, so many things to consider, I let my driver’s license lapse, and I haven’t got around to getting it renewed. It’s ridiculous, I know … but right now I can’t drive.’
Sarah said, ‘Oh, well, Mrs García, I would be happy to come to your house.’
‘Oh? Well … perhaps that would be all right.’ Her voice said she had grave doubts.
‘I got your address from your daughter, Pilar, and I could be there within the hour,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ll show you my credentials so you’ll know you’re totally safe with me, OK?’ She hoped her tone indicated that they both knew this was a joke. When the silence continued on the other end of the line, she added, ‘Or if you prefer I could send a patrolman in uniform, in a black-and-white patrol car with a light bar on top, so you’ll know you’re totally safe on the journey, and he can bring you downtown. He’ll bring you right up to my office and take you home again after we’ve finished talking.’
The more I talk, the more I sound like a crazed rapist’s evil henchwoman.