At the top of the stairs a door led into the loft. It was a wide open space with all sorts of mismatched furniture scattered around. There was artwork plastered on the walls and even a motorcycle being worked on in the far corner. There were beer cans by the case stacked neatly in the corner near a hand-written recycling sign. The walls were covered with haphazardly hung concert posters by artists like Coop and Shag. It looked like Jerry and his pals were full-blown, Creeper-wearing hipsters.

Above a sunken foam couch was a poster of John Travolta with his eyes gouged out, his teeth blackened, and horns drawn onto his forehead. I threw my bag aside and sat on the couch. In an area I couldn’t see, I could hear Myra running back and forth, muttering loudly to herself about her hair. I wandered around the loft and glanced out the windows at the back of the building. Instead of the expected alley there was a small yard with grass and a fenced-in garden. I had to give the kids credit, it was quite a swinging pad.

As I lit a cigarette and settled back, I began to wonder where my little pal Jerry was. He knew I was coming. The little prick had better not have flaked on me. I’d strangle him for sure.

From the couch, sagging to the point where I nearly sat on the floor, I could see the door to an old-fashioned, steel-caged service elevator. That was your basement access right there.

After a couple of minutes, Myra appeared again. She was just sort of standing there, smiling, and staring at me as though she were sizing me up.

“You don’t look like a detective,” she said, walking toward me.

Fucking great. Jerry told her. Stupid kids can never keep their mouths shut. “Well, that’s the point of being undercover. Any idea where our boy Jerry is now?”

She sighed. “No, I haven’t seen him since he got back from your office.” Then she looked me over in an odd sort of way, with her head tilted to one side. “How old are you?”

“How old do I look?” I shot back.

“Anywhere from twenty-five to forty-five,” she smiled. “I can’t decide.”

I felt myself begin to flush red. “Somewhere in the middle.”

Myra smiled pleasantly and adjusted her bangs without ever once taking her dark, intense eyes off me. Just when I thought she’d embarrassed me enough, she took another step. “You seeing anybody?” She gestured at my ringless hand. “You’re not married.”

I stared at her blankly, stunned, like she’d just asked me where the sky was located. What a stupid question.

Despite thinking much more, all I said was, “No.”

Myra looked puzzled. “Why’d you say it like that? When was the last time you dated someone?”

That tore it. I leaned forward. “Hey, who’s doing the investigating here?”

But she was unshakable. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”