She gave a final firm pump to my hand before sinking gracefully into one of the chairs. Monica Fullbright smelled like money, and she sure didn’t look like any of the hookers I saw down at Bauchet Street. She looked the way my mother wanted me to look, like one of the women from Town & Country magazine. Pure Hancock Park. The class part of LA, the old money before Beverly Hills. Charge accounts at the wine store, the dry cleaners and the hairdresser on Larchmont. I felt the way I do around my mother’s friends when they come over to play bridge in their cashmere pullovers and expensive loafers. My arms feel too long for the sleeves of my shirt, which is buttoned too tightly around my neck. I feel twelve years old, gawky and unattractive, although I’m wearing a navy blue silk suit and a pair of black Charles Jourdan pumps. I felt a terrific urge to bustle around the office and clean up, but I had to content myself with moving the noodles out of the way, making room to place my elbows so I could lean toward her in a manner I hoped projected great confidentiality.

“I’d love to help if I can. What’s the problem?” Maybe she was rich but took little things from nice stores. Maybe she hit someone’s car in a parking lot. Whatever it was, I sure hoped it wasn’t a divorce.

“Mind if I smoke?” She looked around for an ashtray without waiting for me to answer. It was hidden under a stack of index cards with notes about discovery. She lit the cigarette. “Well, I’m sure you’ll think this is pretty ridiculous, but I’ve lost my housekeeper.”

A missing maid? Did she think this was an employment agency? That I was going to get up and put on an apron?

“If a person’s missing, all you need to do is file a report with the police.” Missing-person reports are common knowledge. You don’t have to be law review to figure it out. I tried to keep my voice neutral. Her helpless attitude really pushed my buttons. I’ve taken care of myself for years.

Monica Fullbright dropped her head slightly and shook it as though she were a schoolgirl being reprimanded. The expensive smell was Joy perfume.

“I didn’t want to report it. She’s illegal. I’m not sure what the rules are, but I know I’m supposed to pay a tax or something. I was afraid if I reported her missing one of us might get into trouble. I don’t know what to do. Everyone hires these girls.” Monica Fullbright raised her hand helplessly so that the big diamond winked across the desk at me.