Disappearing Acts

“I have to make sure Meat gets home all right.”

“For someone who’s not worried about Meat, you are giving a good imitation of being worried about Meat.”

“Nine o‘clock.” Herculeah glanced over her shoulder at the clock. “Oh, not for another hour.”

“Then come away from the window for an hour. Then go back.”

Herculeah’s mother was at her desk, Herculeah at the living-room window. The living room served as Mim Jones’s office. She was a private investigator and saw her clients here.

“No, funny odd. Meat has told me that when I’m away and he thinks I’m in trouble, he stands at the window. Now things have turned around. I’m the one standing at the window, and Meat’s the one in trouble.”

Herculeah smoothed down her hair. “I know it,” she said.

Meat’s eyes continued to focus on the ominous trail. Now he was almost at the door of the stall.

The wallet ... the lipstick ... the brush ... and now—

There was the purse, also blue. It lay on its side, with its golden chain broken.

Meat drew in a breath. He paused. Now his mind had begun to reason out what had happened. A guy-ette had mistakenly come into the men’s room.

Of course. She had realized her mistake—probably as soon as she saw the urinals—heard him coming and, in a panic, quickly ducked into one of the stalls, hoping not to be discovered. These dropped objects and broken chain were the result of her panic.

Meat was not up on bathroom etiquette, but he knew that what he needed to do was to leave the room immediately in a gentlemanly way.

He turned, then hesitated. No, maybe he should quickly wash his hands to show he hadn’t noticed anything. He did that, running a little cold water on them from the dirty tap. He reached for a towel, but the holder was empty.

He quickly dried his hands on the sides of his pants. He said, “Well, I’d better be getting back to class or they’ll start without me.” He started for the door.

The wallet! He remembered the wallet. He had the girl’s wallet.

And then a sudden thought made his freeze. The lights had been off when he entered. Off!

If there were a girl in here, she would have ducked immediately into one of the stalls, wouldn’t she? Particularly if she was in a panic. She wouldn’t have wasted time by running across the room and turning off the light first.

Now Meat did not know what to do. He decided the best thing he could do was put the wallet back where he had found it and return to the group.

He reached back to pull the wallet from his pocket, and his elbow hit the door of a stall, jarring it open.

Meat saw a flash of blue. There was someone sitting inside.

He spoke as he would have wanted someone to speak to him in similar circumstances. He knew every rest-room nightmare there was, and having a stranger of the opposite sex catch you sitting on the john was right up at the top.

“My elbow did that. My head was turned the other way. I didn’t see a thing. Go on with what you were—”

Meat didn’t get to say the word “doing,” because at that moment something fell against the door of the stall, opening it all the way. Meat stumbled backward.

“I really was looking the other way that time. I didn’t even—”

This was another sentence that Meat was not going to complete.

He stepped back quickly. A body had fallen forward from the stall and landed at his feet.

Her head was turned to the side, and a ponytail hid most of her face.