Free Cemetery of Angels by Noel Hynd Page B

orange Volvo with a leaky radiator in August of 2000,” Melissa said, expanding. “No wonder I stayed. Who would drive back after that?” Rebecca smiled. She was starting to like Melissa.
    “I don’t care if I do or do not look like I’m from here,” Melissa continued. “I take it as a compliment either way.” She paused. “I’m from Milwaukee. Jeffrey Dahmer’s home town. Hack-and-Sack on Lake Michigan.” Again, Rebecca grinned.
    “What does your roommate do?” she asked.
    “June? She goes the model-and-actress routine,” Melissa said with a trace of boredom. “She gets her share of work. Mostly porn. She’s got big natural hooters so she does well. She sleeps around a bit to get movie work, blows a lot of Maryjane and gets in fights with people. She’s actually a miserable human being, which is what I like about her.”
    “Sounds like you don’t get along.”
    “Actually we do. But we each know exactly what’s wrong with the other. Aside from the fact that she’s a horrible human being, she’s actually very nice.”
    Rebecca nodded knowingly. It almost sounded like a marriage. “June used to be one of my Am Civ students,” Melissa said. Her eyes traveled the kitchen. “You know,” she said, changing the subject, “this house has a wonderful aura to it. I’ve never been in here before.”
    “Think so?”
    “I sure do. Don’t you? You bought it?”
    “I just… Heck, I’ve just been transplanted. Everything takes some getting used to,” Rebecca answered.
    “Sure,” Melissa said with another sisterly smile. “Of course it does.” She finished her tea and a few more minutes passed in friendly conversation.
    “Look,” Melissa finally said, “I’m going to run along. If you ever want to talk, I’m usually around.”
    “I’d call first.”
    “It’s F0RD,” she said. “Same as June’s Mustang. Count me as a friend now.”
    “Thanks,” Rebecca said.
    “Look, I’ll tell you what. Let’s make it more precise. Tell me what’s a good time for you, and I’ll give you an informal tour of the area. An ‘insider’s tour,’ since I’ve been here for a while.”
    “I’d like that,” Rebecca said.
    “So would I. How about tomorrow morning? Eleven a.m.,” Melissa suggested.
    “Know what? I’ll meet you here where I met you today. How’s that sound?”
    “It sounds wonderful, Melissa. And my friends call me ‘Becca.’”
    Melissa reached over and offered a handshake. Rebecca reciprocated. Melissa’s right hand was cool. It also bore four rings, previously unnoticed. And her wrist was seriously a-bangle with a set of pastel bracelets.
    “Be good, honey,” Melissa Ford said. “Eleven A.M. tomorrow.”
    Rebecca stood and walked her friend to the door. As she left, Melissa gave her a tiny wave and a thousand kilowatt smile.
    Rebecca watched her go then went back to unloading the paint from its bags. Even the turret room didn’t seem so annoying anymore. Rebecca had a great feeling at having so easily made a new friend.

Chapter 8
    Dr. Henry Einhorn’s place of business was in an office in a medical building across the street from an apartment complex in Century City. It was in a high-rise white building overlooking the former back lot Twentieth Century Fox. And like every other doctor’s office that Rebecca had ever visited, Dr. Einhorn’s office was on the ground floor. Rebecca visited Einhom that same afternoon.
    Rebecca rang the doorbell. She was met by a young man who introduced himself as Delbert Morninglori, the doctor’s assistant.
    “You can call me Del,” the young man said. “As in Del Shannon. Ever heard of Del Shannon?”
    “Only courtesy of oldies radio stations,” Rebecca said to him.
    “Well, that’s good enough.” Del, as he called himself, whistled a few bars of “Runaway” and invited her into the office.
    Del was politely mannered, soft-spoken and had a gold earring the size of a quarter. He wore a black T-shirt, a beige buckskin vest,