Out Cold by William G. Tapply Page A

cop?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œYou don’t look like a cop.”
    â€œI’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.
    â€œSo what are you? Truant officer? Social worker? Reporter? Preacher?”
    I smiled. “None of those things. Not even close. I’m a lawyer.”
    She laughed. “A horny lawyer?”
    â€œNo. Just a lawyer.” I took out one of my cards and held it out to her.
    She stepped closer, took the card, looked at it, then tucked it into her jacket pocket. She looked up at me. “Fifty bucks,” she said. “We just talk.”
    â€œHow do I know you’ll tell me the truth?” I said.
    She shrugged. “Why should I lie to you?”
    â€œWhy shouldn’t you?”
    â€œBecause,” she said, “whatever you want to ask me, I probably just don’t give a shit one way or the other.”
    I smiled. “Let’s give it a shot.” I took out my wallet and gave her a twenty-dollar bill.
    She took it, looked at it, and kept her hand extended. “I said fifty.”
    â€œYou get the rest after we talk.”
    She shrugged and shoved the twenty into her jacket pocket. “Okay. What the hell. Go ahead. Ask away. I’ll give you twenty dollars worth of answers.”
    I took out a picture of the dead girl and held it up for her. “Do you know her?”
    She squinted at the photo, then frowned at me. “What’s the matter with her? She looks…”
    â€œShe’s dead.”
    â€œOh, shit,” she mumbled. “What happened?”
    â€œDo you recognize her?”
    â€œI don’t know. Yeah, maybe. Lemme see.” She reached for the photo. I gave it to her. She frowned at it. When she looked up at me, I saw that some of the hardness had gone out of her eyes. “She was sick,” she said.
    â€œYou do recognize her, then.”
    She took a drag off her cigarette, then dropped it on the sidewalk and ground it out with the toe of her boot. “I saw her just one time,” she said. “She’s not like a regular around here or anything. It was a few days ago. I only remember her because she was throwing up. I was gonna see if there was anything I could do, but…” She shrugged.
    â€œYou didn’t?”
    â€œI started to, I really did. I felt bad for her. But when she saw me, she walked away.”
    â€œWhere did this happen?”
    She pointed down the street in the direction the panel truck had gone. “Few blocks that way. Over on Kneeland Street, down in Chinatown. It looked like she was hurting pretty bad. She was leaning against the side of a restaurant, just gagging and puking, and when she walked, she was like all hunched over, holding her belly, kind of limping, you know?”
    â€œWas she pregnant, did you notice?”
    â€œYou think because she was sick…”
    I shrugged.
    She shook her head. “She was wearing a long coat. I didn’t notice her belly.” She cocked her head and looked at me. “Funny thing, though.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe guy in that truck?”
    â€œThat guy you were just talking to?”
    She nodded.
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œJust now. He was looking for a girl. That’s all.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWe’re just hanging on the street, you know? Me and Zooey and Kayla? So this guy, he pulls up beside us, rolls down his window, gives us a wave, tells us to come over. We ask him if he’s looking to have some fun. He looks us over and shakes his head. Not with you, he says. We go, Come on, mister. What’s wrong with us? I mean, Zooey’s Asian. Most guys go ga-ga over her. But this guy, he goes, You are not what I’m seeking. Talked like that, very educated, or maybe a phony, you know what I’m saying? It sounded pretty weird, this guy in a truck trying to hook up, talking like he’s some creepy college professor or something. I mean,