“I did a little looking. I talked to Lucian Frenada. I talked to the head of security at Ms. Dowell’s hotel. Maybe the studio is overreacting to the scene between Frenada and Ms. Dowell at the Golden Glow last week—understandable with an important star—but I can’t find any evidence that Frenada’s been hanging around her.”

“That isn’t what I asked you to investigate,” Alex snapped.

“No, but you haven’t been asked to pay me anything either, have you.”

Sal came up behind me and put a hand on my arm. “Let’s go, Vic. I’ve got to get back to the Glow—it’s my night to close.”

I reminded Alex and Trant that they knew Sal from last week’s party. We all said meaningless nothings, about Murray’s debut, about Sal’s bar, but I would have given a month’s billings to know what they said when Sal and I moved out of earshot. I turned to look when we got to the door; they were bent over the table like the three witches over a pot.

Chapter 20: Child in Mourning

20 Child in Mourning

What with the drive to Coolis and the long night hopping around town, I was glad to crawl into bed. I read a little of Morrell’s book on the Disappeared in South America, stretching my legs between clean sheets to pull the kinks out of my spine.

The phone rang as I was drifting off. I groaned but stuck out an arm and mumbled a greeting. There was a pause on the other end, then someone garbled my name in a hurried voice just above a whisper.

“Yes, this is V. I. Warshawski. Who is this?”

“It’s—This is Robbie. Robbie Baladine. I was at the gate, you know, when you came last week, you know, when you talked to my mom about—about Nicola.”

I came fully awake in a hurry, turning on the light as I assured him that I remembered him well. “You’re the expert tracker. What can I do for you?”

“I—It’s not for me, but Nicola. I want—want to go to her funeral. Do you know when it is?”

“There’s a problem about that,” I said carefully. “The morgue seems to have lost her body. I don’t know how that happened, but until they find it there can’t be a funeral.”

“So he was right.” His young voice was filled with a kind of bitterness. “I thought he was making it up to—to tease me.”

“Your dad?”