Free Rubbed Out by Barbara Block Page A

I know who that is?”
    â€œI hope so, considering she’s your little cutie on the side. Tell me, was your wife mad when she found out? I bet she was. Is that why she ran off?”
    â€œI told you why she left.”
    â€œI don’t believe you.”
    â€œWhy would I lie?”
    I ticked off the reasons. “Because you’re embarrassed. Because you’re ashamed. Because you don’t want to admit to yourself that you’ve been stepping out with someone younger than your daughter.” Then I gave him my standard honesty spiel. “Believe me, I don’t care what you’ve done. But if you want me to find your wife, you have to tell me the truth. If you don’t, you’re just wasting your money and my time.”
    Wilcox closed his eyes for a second. His shoulders slumped. It was as if someone had pulled the plug.
    â€œOkay.” He took another sip from his glass. “I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed. I made a mistake, a really bad one. But this was the first time . . . I ever . . . oh, hell.” He swallowed. “I didn’t think it would make a difference. I didn’t think it would matter.”
    â€œWhat else haven’t you told me?”
    â€œNothing.” He put his hand up. “I swear. Really. You have to find her for me. You just have to.” And he stared into his glass. “I need her back.”
    I felt a trickle of pity for Wilcox, and then I thought about George and the trickle dried up.

Chapter Eleven
    I finished off the day by going to see Alima Matterson. There was a slim possibility that she might know something about Janet Wilcox’s whereabouts, and even if she didn’t, talking to her seemed better than going home and staring at the four walls. Which I’d be doing soon enough anyway.
    I got to Le Bijou a little before ten. The place was located off Erie Boulevard, shoved back from the main street and bordered on one side by a welding business and on the other by a printing company.
    The parking lot was only half shoveled. Judging from the number of cars in it, business was not booming. The place looked like a warehouse for dry goods. The sign out front—L E B IJOU . L IVE A LL N UDE R EVIEWS A LL THE T IME —and the picture of the girl on the wall were the only things that said different. As I entered, I noticed that a couple of corner slats on the lower wall were working their way loose.
    The place was as erotic as a hardware store. The walls were covered with fake wood paneling. A sheet outlining rules of conduct was prominently posted in the entranceway. The space was large and sparsely furnished. No attempt at decoration had been made. There was the stage, a bare platform where a bored-looking girl was doing a desultory dance with a fire pole; the bar, which featured coffee and juice (liquor being off limits in joints like this); and the VIP rooms, where the girls did their lap dances.
    The description Kira had given me of Alima turned out to be fairly accurate, and it didn’t take me long before I spotted her cozying up to a guy at the bar. The guy was in his forties and looked like a mid-level insurance salesman.
    Alima had her face turned up toward him and was gazing at him as if he were a god. Calli does that too. I’ve always wanted to go up to the guy she’s talking to and say, “Don’t you realize she’s putting you on?” But maybe I’m just jealous because I’ve never mastered “the look.” Alima had, though. For sure.
    â€œYes?” she snapped when I got near her.
    She wasn’t what I would have picked for Wilcox. Usually men go for women like their wives, only fifteen years younger, so I’d figured him for something conservative. But she wasn’t. I couldn’t imagine Janet Wilcox wearing the equivalent of safety pins through her cheek, a ring through her nose, or stretchers in her ears even when she was younger.
    This girl