Thicker Than Water (A Leo Waterman Mystery) by G.M. Ford

looked like she’d had about all the abuse she could stand. I almost felt bad about bracing her for information. Well, maybe not bad, but it did occur to me.
    The place was shabbier than it was chic. Too many knick-knacks, doodads, and votive candles for my liking. Looked like she had passable taste but a serious shortage of folding money. On the far wall, the metal mount for a flat screen TV hung empty and forlorn, like some kind of post-recessional wall art denoting the end of civilization as we knew it.
    “Here’s what you’re going to do for me,” I said.
    Her lumped-up face filled with “oh God, not again” concern.
    “Not like that,” I assured her. “What you’re going to do is tell me everything you know about how and why you found yourself at the Alderbrook Resort registered under the name Rebecca Duval. You’re going to tell me where you got her ID and everything you know that might help me find Brett Ward.” She started to speak but I stopped her with a cautioning finger. “You do that and I’ll forget about you. You screw around with me and I’ll put you together with cops.”
    I made the Boy Scout’s honor sign.
    She took me at my word. “That son of a bitch,” she said.
    “I take it we’re talking about Brett Ward.”
    She nodded. “Called me about a week ago. He knew things were tough for me. Knew I was having trouble making the rent since my unemployment ran out. Said he needed me to go out to this place in the woods and pretend to be his wife. She’s some kinda doctor or something. Said it had something to do with insurance. Said I could eat, drink, and be merry on her dime. No problem. Just stay in character. Call him if I need anything. He’d slip me a few bucks when it was over.”
    “And you went for it.”
    “I’ve been eating a lot of Top Ramen lately,” she said defensively. “A week in a spa on somebody else’s dime was just too damn good to turn down.”
    I could see her point but didn’t say so. “You sleeping with him?” I asked.
    “Not lately,” she groused. “Lately Bretsey’s got…” She made quotation marks in the air with her fingers. “Bretsey’s got ‘erection issues’ all of a sudden.”
    “How lately?
    “Last couple of weeks.”
    “So?”
    “So he picks me up here, gives me her ID and credit card, and then drives me way the hell out into God’s country to the Alderbrook, and leaves me there. Says he’s gonna be back to get me in a week or so, have fun, and then he drives off.”
    “And all of a sudden the credit card wasn’t good anymore.”
    “I tried to call him.” She shook her fist in anger. “Son a bitch deserts me out in the middle of nowhere. Won’t answer his goddamned phone. No money, no nothing!”
    I watched in silence as she started to lose control of herself. Tears rolled down her bruised cheeks. “And then that Teddy pig…he…what he did…” She looked at me with that horrible red eye, as if she needed something from me, understanding or forgiveness perhaps, it was hard to tell.
    Whatever it was made me uncomfortable, so I changed the subject. “How long had you and Brett been sleeping together?”
    “Coupla three months,” she sniffled.
    “Where?” I asked.
    “Where what?”
    “Where did you guys hook up?” I looked around the room. “Here?”
    She shook her head and said, “At his place.”
    “His condo?”
    “No, no. Never there. He’s got this office out by the Ballard Locks.”
    I pressed her for details, but all she knew was how to drive there and get laid. Somewhere between the Ballard Locks and Shilshole Bay was the best she could do. On the ship canal side. Big old boathouse. Used to be painted green but most of the paint had long since peeled off. Seemed Brett kept a little love nest behind the boatyard office. Classy guy, that Brett.
    I kept at her until she ran dry. Got more of her life story than I wanted to hear, but that happens sometimes. Once you open the floodgates, the pond’s gonna