The number rang three times and then a woman picked up. “Hello?”

“Oh, hi. May I speak to Mrs. Brandle?”

There was a moment of quiet and I couldn’t help but burble on as though adding information would change the facts. “I’m calling because I’m trying to locate a Lorelei Brandle, who lived on Daisy Lane in the early seventies.”

The woman said, “She can’t come to the phone right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Really? This is the Lorelei Brandle who lived next door to Evelyn and Terrence Dace?”

“She doesn’t go by the name Lorelei. She’s been ‘Lolly’ since the age of two.”

“Sorry.”

“She moved here from Daisy Lane six years ago. Evelyn Dace remarried. I believe she’s still in Bakersfield, but I have no idea where.”

“Would there be any way I might speak with Lolly?”

There was a pause. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Kinsey Millhone. Terrence Dace died this past week. He’s the—”

“I know who Terrence is, dear. Everyone in town knows him. If you don’t mind my asking, what’s this have to do with Lolly?”

“It gets complicated, but basically I’m distantly related to Mr. Dace and I’ve been talking with some of the surviving family members. A question has come up about his whereabouts the night Karen Coffey was kidnaped and I thought Lorelei . . . Lolly . . . might help us out.”

“Just one moment.”

I heard her clunk the handset down on a tabletop. There was a long interval of silence. Eventually she picked up again.

“I just went to check on her. She hasn’t been well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I drove up from Santa Teresa yesterday and I should head back before long. I was hoping to speak to her sometime soon. Are you her caregiver?”

“I’m her cousin, Alice.”

“I’ll keep my visit as brief as possible. I only need a few minutes of her time.”

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t do this, Miss . . .”

“Millhone.”

She lowered her voice. “No one in the family’s been to visit Lolly in the past five years. She’s eighty-six years old and she’s depressed. Frankly, I think a visit would lift her spirits regardless of the subject.”

“Was that who you were talking to just now?”

“Yes, it was. She seems to like the idea or I wouldn’t have permitted you to pursue the subject. What time were you thinking?”

“Shortly. Actually, right now.”

Her silence made me think she was going to turn me down, but she said, “I suppose that would do.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate your help. I’m at the Holiday Inn near the Convention Center downtown. I’m looking at a Ralston Street address, but I don’t know where that is.”