He was surprised by Walter's answer. "You mean Anita Chapman?"
"Anita was good, but her sister, Reina, was even better. Most people don't know that. Reina didn't get to perform the way her sister did." Walter's gaze grew distant. "She lived here a long time ago."
"Here in Oceanside?"
"Just down the road in Encinitas, but she used to sing in a club here. The first time I heard her voice, I thought it was an angel singing. I was completely captivated."
"When was that?" he asked.
"More than forty years ago."
"That's a long time."
"I was in the Marine Corps, stationed at Camp Pendleton. When we got leave, we used to come to Oceanside. The club where she sang was dark and smoky. Back then, everyone smoked and no one cared. I don't remember the name of it or where it was. But it had a red door."
His heart jumped. "The door you were looking for last night."
"I can't seem to find it. But it has to be here somewhere. One day I'll find it. I know I will. I have to. I made a promise…" Walter's voice drifted away, and he suddenly put a hand on the stack of records to steady himself.
"Are you alright?" he asked with concern.
Walter dug into his pocket and pulled out a baggie. Inside was a peanut butter sandwich. He took a couple of bites, and as he ate, he seemed to get steadier.
"Looks like you were hungry," he commented.
"Blood sugar likes to jump around. I gotta go," Walter said abruptly. "Catherine told our nosy neighbor to watch over me, and she's probably calling the police and telling them I'm gone, like I'm a six-year-old or something. Never had someone keeping tabs on me all the time. I don't like it."
"That would bother me, too. Can I give you a ride home? You could tell me more about Reina."
"I can take a cab. I have the phone number." He pulled out his phone, his hand still shaky.
"Let me help you," he said.
"The number is right in my phone," Walter said as he handed the phone to him. "You play, don't you? I can see the calluses on your fingers."
He punched in the number for the cab company and handed the phone back to him. "I don't play anymore."
Walter asked for a cab and then told the dispatcher where he was and that he'd be outside. The dispatcher seemed to know him and said a taxi would be there soon.
"Why did you stop playing?" Walter asked.
He shrugged. "It stopped being interesting."
"That doesn't seem true." Walter's gaze sharpened. "What's your story?"
"No story." He cleared his throat. "Can I help you outside?"
"I don't need help."
Despite his words, Walter still seemed unsteady, so he followed him out of the store, standing next to him on the curb as he waited for his ride.
"You don't have to stay with me," Walter told him. "I don't need a sitter."
"That's what you said last night. You also said you were looking for a red door. What was that about?"
"The door opened into a nightclub. I’m still trying to find it. I know it’s here somewhere."
"What was the name of the club?"
