"Who're you?" he asked. No accent. He wore pleated pants and the sort of ribbed undershirt old men wear.

"I'm Kinsey," I said. "Agnes Grey's daughter asked me to drive out here and check on her. Do you have any idea where she is?"

He surprised me by holding out his hand to introduce himself. We shook. His palm was soft and hot, his grip firm.

"I'm Marcus. This is my wife, Faye. We haven't seen Old Mama for a long tune. Like, months. We heard she got sick, but I don't know for sure. Hospital in Brawley. You might see if she's there."

"Wouldn't somebody have notified her relatives?"

Marcus stuck his hands in his pockets with a shrug. "She might not've told them. This's the first I knew she had family. She's a real private person. Like a recluse almost. Minds her own business as long as you mind yours. Where's this daughter live?"

"Santa Teresa. She's been worried about Agnes but she didn't have a way to get in touch."

Neither of them seemed impressed with the sincerity of Irene's concern. I changed the subject, looking back at the trailer across the road. "Who's the little gremlin I saw sitting on the front step?"

Faye spoke up, her tone sour. "There's two of them. Boy and a girl. They came by a few months ago and staked the place out. They must have heard it was empty because they moved in pretty quick. Runaways. Don't know how they survive. Probably stealing or whoring, whichever comes first. We asked them to clean up the sewage, but of course they don't."

Clearly, sewage was a euphemism for the bags of sewage. "The kid I saw couldn't have been twelve years old," I said.

Faye answered. "They're fifteen. Boy is, at any rate. They act like wild animals and I know they do drugs. They're always picking through our garbage, looking for food. Sometimes, other kids come by and camp out with them. Word must be out they have a place to crash."

"Can't you report 'em to the cops?"

Marcus shook his head. "Tried that. They vamoose the minute anybody shows up."

"Could there be a connection between Agnes's disappearance and their moving in?"

"I doubt it," he said. "She'd been gone a couple months by the time they got here. Somebody might have told them the trailer was empty. They never seemed to worry about her showing up. I know they've torn the place apart, but there's not much we can do."

I gave him my card. "This is my number in Santa Teresa. I'll be down here a couple of days seeing if I can get a line on her. After that, you can reach me at this 805 area code. Would you give me a call if she gets in touch? I'll try to check back with you before I leave town, in case you've heard from her. Maybe you'll think of something that might be of help."