“Happened? Like what?”
“Like something that would have made Michelle’s personality change.”
Linda Sue snorted. “Hell, a six-year-old ain’t got no personality.”
“On the contrary,” Horatio said. “A child’s permanent personality is substantially formed by age six.”
Linda Sue snorted again and started fiddling with her purse clasp while Horatio turned his attention back to Hazel. “Did you notice anything like that? I know it was a long time ago but it would really be a big help if you could remember.”
Hazel seemed to reflect on this for a bit, pursing her lips as she did so.
Linda Sue finally broke the silence. “I’m going out for a smoke.” She rose
and then wagged a finger at Horatio. “And there’s only one way in and out of this place, so don’t you even think about trying to scoot off without you know what.” She flicked what she probably assumed was a sincere smile in her granny’s direction and left.
“How much did you promise to pay her?” Hazel asked as soon as her granddaughter was out of earshot.
Horatio smiled, pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “A hundred bucks. I’d much rather give it to you.”
Hazel waved this gesture off. “I don’t have anything to spend money on in this place. Just give it to Lindy. Way the girl goes through deadbeat men, she’ll need it. Four babies by four different sperm donors, excuse my French, and she’ll probably have four more before she’s done.” She sat quiet for a few moments and Horatio decided to ride it out.
“How is Michelle?” Hazel asked.
“She’s been better,” Horatio said frankly.
“I followed her career,” Hazel admitted. “Read about her in the papers and all.”
“You did? Why?”
“Look what the girl did with herself. Olympic athlete. Secret Service. Girl’s done herself proud. Always knew she would.”
“How?”
“Like you said, with a child you can tell how they’re going to be from a pretty early age. That girl was stubborn and determined. I remember thinking about her that it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. And that girl was not going to let anything or anyone stand in her way.”
“You would’ve made a good psychologist.”
“I wanted to be a doctor. Graduated third in my class in college.”
“What happened?”
“My older brother wanted to be a doctor too. And back then the boys got what they wanted over the girls. So I stayed home, took care of my ailing parents and then got married, had my babies, my husband dropped dead of a coronary the day after he retired, and now here I am. Not much of a life, but it’s the only one I’ve got.”
“Raising a family is a pretty important job.”
“I’m not saying I regret any of it. But everybody has dreams. Some people, like Michelle, fight hard enough to realize theirs.”
“So did you notice a difference in her?”
“Yes. I couldn’t say it was when she was six. Too many years ago, you understand. But all of a sudden the child wouldn’t meet my eye and we were friends, had her over for little tea parties and such with some of the other neighborhood children. Then she stopped coming. Things would make her jump, or cry. Tried to talk to her mother, but Sally Maxwell didn’t want to hear about it. As it was they moved away shortly thereafter anyway.”
“And do you have an idea of what might have happened to cause the change in Michelle?”
“I’ve thought about it over the years, but nothing ever popped out at me.”
“One of the things that her family told me was that she became increasingly sloppy. And that hasn’t changed.”
“I wasn’t really invited over to their house much. Sally had her hands full, what with Frank gone so much with work and all.”