Dying for the Highlife Read Free Page A

cook at times. I don’t think he held any restaurant job for very long, though.
    “What’s the most recent job he’s had, that you know of?”
    “Well, he was working at a diner down in Barstow. That was within the last six months.”
    “I thought you said he was here in South Lake a month ago.”
    “Yes, that’s what I heard. But I don’t think he lived or worked here. I assume he was passing through.”
    “Where else has he lived?”
    “After he left San Jose, he floated around California. He was in Sacramento years ago, and I heard he lived in LA and Fresno at some point. I also heard he worked at a lumberyard in Redding.”
    “Why do you think he’s moved around so much?”
    “Let’s put it this way,” she said, clicking her fingernails on the table. “I suspect he wore out his welcome pretty quick, wherever he was.”
    “Why’s that?”
    She looked at me impatiently, as if I should have known, then she leaned forward.
    “Jimmy always felt he was special,” she began, her eyes boring into mine. “He figured the world owed him some kind of special, glorious treatment. He was a smart kid, and had talent too, but he never figured out all that is meaningless unless you do something with it. He never applied himself to anything, never worked at anything, but just expected a good life would be his reward. He thought he’d be a professional golfer, or maybe a great musician, or some kind of superstar. The truth is, he’d always been a spoiled, lazy brat, and I don’t think he’s ever changed.”
    “Did you love him?” I said.
    “He was my stepson.”
    “I see,” I said, although I didn’t. I wondered if she felt she was obliged to love him, a stepson who raped her. And then I wondered if she’d ever actually given birth herself.
    I rubbed my temple. “Why do you want to find him?”
    Sheila Majorie blinked and touched her chin with her finger. Her eyes shifted to the side, and when she looked back at me, I knew I wouldn’t believe what she was about to say.
    “Despite the past, he’s my stepson, and I want to make sure he’s okay, that he’s not in trouble.”
    It was such an obvious lie I chuckled. Then I sighed.
    “Searching for a missing person isn’t cheap, Sheila. But if you’ve got the means, I’ll find Jimmy Homestead, and it doesn’t matter to me what your motivation is.”
    She looked relieved for a moment. Then her eyes became wider and her lower lip dropped.
    “What is your fee?” she asked.
    “Three hundred a day. Plus expenses. And I’ll need two grand up front as a retainer.”
    “That’s…that’s a lot of money. I don’t have that kind of money now.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “I mean, all you have to do is make a few phone calls, and you can track him down, right?”
    “Sometimes it’s that easy. But I assume you already tried that.”
    “Yes, I did,” she said, her voice small. “How about we talk about a payment plan, then?”
    “I’d consider it if you’d be upfront about your reason for wanting to find Jimmy.”
    “I…I mean, he’s my son. What more reason would I have than that?”
    “He’s your
step
son. A drunk, a drug addict, who’s done nothing but leave a trail of grief in his wake. That’s what you said, isn’t it? A no-morals loser who raped you, right? And you want to pay an investigator to find him? Seems to me you’d be better off if you never heard from him again.”
    She became very still, and I could see her expression turn resolute. The contours of her face looked cut from stone.
    “I can offer you ten grand total,” she said. “Payable once you find him and arrange a face-to-face meeting for me. Nothing up front.”
    We stared each other down. “You can’t afford two grand now, but you’ll pay me ten grand once I find him?”
    “That’s right,” she said.
    I took the bowtie out of my shirt pocket and studied it, then carefully set it on the table. “How do I know you’ll be able to pay me?”
    “You’re going to