Melancholy Baby

“Nope. He was a little older than most of the girls who worked here, except for me, and he spent a lot of time snowing them about how he’d worked with William B. Williams in New York, or Milt Rosenberg in Chicago.”

“You believe him?”

She snorted and took a drag on her Chesterfield.

“Hell, no,” she said. “He just wanted to get their pants off.”

“Did he succeed?”

Millie shrugged.

“Got no way to know,” she said.

“Well,” I said, “it certainly sounds like he fooled around on his wife.”

“I’m not saying he did, or didn’t.”

“And,” I said, “as far as you know, there were no children.”

“Far as I know. ’Course, I never went to his house or anything.”

“Did anyone? Was he close to anyone that might still be around?”

“None that I know of.”

“This is a transient business,” Jeff said.

“ ’Cept for old Millie,” Millie said. “Been here since 1950. Started as a typist right out of high school. Station played Patti Page music.”

“The singing rage,” I said.

“You’re older than you look,” Millie said.

“Not really. My friend Spike has all her old records.”

“God knows why,” Millie said.

“God knows,” I said. “Did you like George Markham?”

Millie thought about that for a minute, while smoking her Chesterfield.

“No,” she said. “I didn’t. He was kind of cute and sexy, but you got past that. He was the kind of guy willing to spend his life saying, ‘This is WMOL Quad City Sound.’ ”

“ ‘Talk,’ ” Jeff said.

“He’d be a nice night?” I said. “A terrible week?”

Millie smiled a big smile at me.

“You know the type,” she said.

“I do,” I said. “Too well.”

16

I’m not her roommate anymore,” Polly Murphy said. We were talking softly at a table in the main library reading room at Taft.

“Why?” I said.

“Well... I guess I thought I would study better.”

“So you moved in with someone else?”

“Yes. Maxine Goetz.”

Polly was cute. Her weight would probably become an issue in a few years. Right now it wasn’t. She had thick, dark hair, which she wore like Catherine Zeta-Jones, and probably shouldn’t have. And her teeth were very white.

I smiled at her.

“Maxine is a studier,” I said.

“Yes. She’s been dean’s list every semester.”

“You?”

She looked down modestly. “Most.”

“Good for you,” I said.

“My parents are paying good money to send me here,” Polly said. “I think they deserve my best effort.”

Wow!

I looked at her for a minute to see if she was teasing me. She seemed sincere.

“How about Sarah?”

“She was more of a party girl,” Polly said.

“When I was in college that meant basically beer and boys,” I said.

“Well, Sarah liked that, certainly.”

“She bring it back to the room too much?”

Polly shrugged.

“You and she were childhood friends,” I said.

She nodded.

“All through high school?”

Polly nodded again.

“Even after she changed?”

“You know about her?” Polly said.

“Just what I hear,” I said. “I heard she was kind of a smart, sweet girl until junior high.”

“I know what people said about her,” Polly said. “But she was my friend.”

I nodded.

“We decided to come to Taft to stay with each other.”

I nodded again. “But...” I said.

“It was... very difficult... living with her,” Polly said.

“Beer and boys?”

“Some of that...”

“And?”

Polly leaned across the table, closer to me.

“Sarah took a lot of drugs.”

“More than grass?” I said.

“Oh, yes. Hard drugs.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t use drugs.”

“Good for you,” I said.

“I graduate this June, and next year, I want to be in a really good MBA program. I don’t want to do anything to spoil my chances.”

“So her drug use was disruptive?”

“Yes. She’d come in at night, late sometimes, and act crazy.”

“Like?”

“Like she’d be crying and seeing things and...” Polly shook her head. “Did you ever go to college?”

“I did,” I said.

“What did you major in?”

“Art.”

“Really?”

I could tell that Polly found that puzzling.

“How did you do?”

“I was a good artist and quite a bad student,” I said.

“Really?” Polly said.

She frowned. I could see that she was puzzled again.

“Who does Sarah room with now?” I said.

“I don’t know. Different people, I think. You know? Boys, mostly.”

“She got a boyfriend?” I said.

“No, not really. I guess she plays the field.”

“Where does she get her drugs?”

“I don’t know. I mean it’s a college, you know? I mean anybody can get drugs at a college.”

“Any one person?”

Polly shrugged and shook her head.

“Sarah ever talk about her parents?” I said.

“Not really. I don’t think she liked her mom much.”

“How about her father.”

“I think she liked him.”

“She say why she didn’t like her mother?”

Polly shrugged again. “I think she thought her mom didn’t like her.”

She shook her head. Incomprehensible.

“You know her mother?” I said.

“Oh, yes.”

“You think she liked Sarah?”

“Well, of course,” Polly said. “She was Sarah’s mom.”

“Why do you suppose Sarah thought that?” I said.

“I don’t know, Ms. Randall. I really don’t. I mean, walking around saying your mom doesn’t like you. I think it’s probably the drugs.”

“She’s been doing drugs for a while, then,” I said.