Free Muller, Marcia - [11] Trophies and Dead Things(v1.0)(html) Page B

her
shirt was a Liz Claiborne.
    She noticed my admiring glance
and said, "Macy's. I charged it. Willie has convinced me of the ease of
living on credit."
 
    "Just so long as he doesn't
convince you of the ease of going into bankruptcy. But, really, you
look great."
    "Thanks. Listen, I started those
skip traces."
    "Hank said you have something on
Heikkinen."
    "Yes. I haven't gotten a response
from your friend at the DMV yet—she was swamped, and their computers
were down for part of the day. But I went by Vital Statistics and came
up with a marriage for Heikkinen—to a Glen A. Ross in nineteen
seventy-eight. I passed the married name along to your friend, and she
said she'd try to have the info by noon tomorrow."
    "Good. Nothing on David Arlen
Taylor?"
    "No. If the DMV files don't show
anything, do you want me to widen the search to Vital Statistics in
other counties?"
    "Yes. Try Alameda, Marin, Contra
Costa, and San Mateo for openers. I know that'll mean a lot of travel
time for you, but I'll cover at the office."
    "I don't think you'll need to,
much. My desk is clear, and we seem to be into a slow period. You may
have to cover for me with Willie, though."
    Hank handed me my bowl of chili
and grinned evilly— because it was extra hot, or because of what Rae
had just said, I couldn't tell. "What does that mean? What's wrong with
Willie, anyway? He looks funny."
    Now Rae grinned, too. "Willie had
all four wisdom teeth pulled this morning. He called me every hour on
the hour all day to whine, and I suspect he'll do the same tomorrow.
He's not talking much tonight, though; he couldn't eat his dinner, so
he drank it."
    "Does that mean he's too sedated
to do his renditions of the latest Jewelry Mart commercials?"
    "You got it."
    "Thank God." Willie gets a bit
frenetic on the subject of his television stardom, and has frequently
been known to reenact his commercials for captive audiences.
    We went back to the living room
and I took up my favorite position on the floor by the
coffee table, bowl of chili (Hank had done something unfortunate to
it—too much Tabasco, I thought) and glass of wine in front of me. I
noticed an empty espresso cup to one side, recalled that Jack Stuart,
our specialist in criminal law, was a fan of the vile brew, and asked,
"Why'd Jack leave so early?"
    Hank said, "He had to go to the
Hall of Justice. That Iranian client of his got arrested again, shot at
a kid who he claims was trying to steal beer from his store.
Fortunately, he missed."
    "Poor Jack. But what about Ted?
Didn't you say he was coming?"
    All four faces clouded.
Anne-Marie said, "Ted couldn't make it. His friend Harry died."
    "Oh, no." I set down my spoon,
what little appetite I'd had completely gone. Harry had been our
secretary's childhood friend; like Ted, he'd been gay, and he'd died of
AIDS. As always when confronted with the horror of the disease, I felt
overwhelmed with helplessness and anger. "How's Ted handling it?"
    Rae said, "I had a drink with him
right after he got the news this afternoon. He's bearing up all right;
it wasn't as if it was unexpected. But still . . . You know what he
told me? He said he felt disconnected, that Harry's dying was the first
major break with his youth. He said it made him feel like he was
straddling the gap between the beginning and the end of his life."
    "I know what he means," Hank
said. "This client of mine, the one whose heirs Shar's trying to
locate, makes me feel that way. Perry wasn't that close a friend, but
he was a symbol of an era to me."
    "Like Abbie Hoffman," Anne-Marie
added. "I couldn't believe it when he killed himself. The clown prince
of the student revolution, ending up dead in middle age of booze and
anti depression drugs. When I heard about Abbie, I knew the sixties
were dead, too."
 
    Willie mumbled wistfully, "I
missed the sixties, was in 'Nam trying to stay alive. Missed the
seventies, too, trying to stay out of jail. Come to think of it, I
might of missed the