T is for Trespass
Page 41I waited until she was seated before I went on. “How long have you known Solana?”
She broke the first doughnut in two and popped half in her mouth. “What’s the job?”
The question was a bit abrupt, but in the interest of priming the pump, I filled her in. “My next-door neighbor fell and dislocated his shoulder. He’s eighty-nine and needs home care while he recuperates.”
“So what’s she make?”
The doughnut looked dense and dry, and the dark chocolate frosting had the gloss of wax. For ten cents I’d have knocked her down and eaten one myself. I knew now that the many fruits and vegetables I’d consumed over the past few days had only made me hostile-not good in my line of work.
For an instant I’d completely lost my place in the conversation. “What?”
“What’s the pay?”
“I don’t know. I was asked to talk to people who’ve worked with her. I’m interested in a character reference.”
“In the neighborhood.”
“I won’t be talking to her neighbors unless I bomb out every place else.”
“I’m talking salary. Ballpark. What’s the hourly wage?”
“I might be.”
The second doughnut was gone though I’d hardly noticed, distracted as I was by the opening I saw. “If things don’t work out for her, I’d be happy to throw your name in the hat.”
“I’d consider it,” she said. “Remind me before you leave and I’ll give you my résumé. I have a copy in my purse.”
“Great. I’ll pass it along,” I said, and then shifted the conversation. “Were you and Solana friends?”
“I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we worked together for close to a year and we got along all right.”
“What’s she like?”
She shrugged. “So-so.”
“So-so?”
“I guess she’s nice enough. If you like that kind.”
“Ah. And what kind is that?”
“So she was punctual,” I suggested.
“Well, yeah, if that’s what you want to call it.”
“What about personal traits?”
“Like what?”
“Was she patient, compassionate? Honest? Good-natured? That’s the kind of thing I’m looking for. You must have had many opportunities to observe her firsthand.”
She stirred her coffee, then licked the spoon clean before she laid it on her tray. She put the next doughnut in her mouth whole and chewed while she considered her reply. “You want my honest opinion?”
“I would love it.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against the woman, but she had no sense of humor and she wasn’t that good a conversationalist. I mean, you say something to her and maybe she’d answer and maybe not, depending on what suited her. She was all the time sitting with her nose in a chart or out on the floor checking on the patients. It wasn’t even her responsibility. She took it on herself.”
I said, “Wow. I had no idea. On paper she looks good.”
“That’s seldom the whole story.”
“Hardly. The rest of us, sometimes on Friday nights? We’d go out together, kind of letting our hair down at the end of the week. Solana went straight home. After a while, we didn’t even ask her to join us because we figured she’d say no.”
“She didn’t drink?”
“Nuh-uhn. Are you kidding? She was too uptight. Plus, she was always watching her weight. And on her breaks, she read books. Anything to make the rest of us look bad. Does that help?”
“Enormously.”
“You think she’ll be hired?”
“It’s not up to me, but I’m certainly going to make a note of what you’ve said.”
I left the place at 1:00 P.M. with Lana Sherman’s résumé in hand. Walking back to the office, I passed a sandwich shop and realized I hadn’t had lunch. In the press of work, I’ve been known to skip meals, but seldom when I was this hungry. I noticed that eating properly was antithetical to feeling full. A QP with Cheese and a large serving of fries will leave you close to comatose. The sudden onslaught of carbohydrates and fat makes you long for a nap, which means a gap of ten or fifteen minutes before you start thinking about your next meal. I did an about-face and veered into the sandwich shop. What I ordered is none of your business, but it was really good. I ate at my desk while I reviewed the Fredrickson file.