Chapter 15

I drank my Coke on the way – not while driving, but while waiting at stop lights. Only an idiot would drink while he's actually driving a car ... come to think of it, there are a lot of things that people do while driving which don't exactly make them look like geniuses. I remember the guy I saw once who was turning left, talking on the cell phone, and using the gear shift, all at the same time – and not being Gil "the ARM" Hamilton from Larry Niven's science fiction, he only had two hands with which to do three jobs.

My bottle was empty by the time I pulled up behind the Mazda Cecelia was driving. I grabbed her Coke – the "classic" model, as mine had been, since the place I'd bought 'em didn't have vanilla Coke – from the glove compartment, where I'd stashed it out of the sunlight, got out, and locked the door behind me. I squatted next to the passenger door, where the window was down, and handed in the Coke. She took the bottle and drank from it, a long drink – she must have been thirsty. When she lowered the bottle she said, "No one has entered or left since we spoke, unless they used a back entrance or one on the other side, where I can't see. And there has been no indication that they're aware of my observation, so I don't believe that anyone has snuck away."

"Well, they might have made you without you knowing it – you are an amateur, remember." I smiled to take the sting out, for though she was an amateur she still was an observant and intelligent one. "But you're right, I bet. Tell me more."

"The individual who, I believe, lied to me gave his name as Rick Sterner – a name which reminds me of a professional wrestler you've mentioned to me occasionally."

"Rick Steiner – though originally he went by Rob Ricksteiner, which I suspect was his actual name."

She flipped a hand. "In any event, he was doing something with the sound equipment – I didn't ask what, as the answer probably would not have enlightened me significantly. There was no one thing which led me to the impression that he was mendacious – it was, rather, a general impression that he knew things which he was repressing. The one clear datum is the fact that when he assured me that he did not know the girl, he was unable or unwilling to look me in the face." Cecelia and I both use that phrase, for neither of us is real comfortable with staring into someone's eyes. I think I got that discomfort from my father, who was a full-blooded Lahtkwa Indian and would have shared the tribe's view that such behavior is rude – though since he died when I was four, I could be wrong. Where Cecelia, who's a forthright and unafraid person, got the same discomfort I don't know.

"Sounds like a good evaluation," I said. "We'll go back in – you first. I'll hang back just enough that he'll focus on you and not really pay attention to me for a couple or three seconds. If he keeps on lying, I'll lean on him."

"Very well." She turned the key to Accessories and sent the windows up – they're electric – before turning it off entirely and getting out of the car. Once her door was looked she looked at me, grinned, and said in as deep a voice as she could manage – and that's pretty deep for a woman, since she's a natural contralto – "Follow me."

"I was gonna say, 'Lead on, MacDuff, ' but instead I'll just say, 'Sure, Lurch.' But don't even think about takin' my hat."

Now she was smiling in earnest. "You're the one who taught me to love The Addams Family, beloved. I'll trust you're behind me." And off she went.

I was a few steps behind her as we entered. She walked straight through an apparent reception area, though there was no one there, and turned left at a T intersection – the hallway that led straight back formed the crossbar of the T. On the right she opened the second door and marched in. I stopped just outside, giving her a bit of time to set things up.

"Mr. Sterner," she said, "I have been thinking over your statements to me, and I find them unsatisfactory. I require elucidation."

I grinned – if this guy had any clue what she was saying it would surprise me. Between her cold tone, and her highfalutin' English, I bet she was at her intimidating best.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said a voice – Sterner's of course. It was a light voice, not effeminate by any means, but it made me think of someone small and slender and perhaps not far out of his teens. Of course that could be a thoroughly erroneous impression – Mike Tyson sounds almost like a girl, but he's actually a big, mean man.

"Simply that I have showed you this picture—" I couldn't see, but I could imagine her holding up the photograph "—whereupon you claimed that you did not know the poor child therein. Upon reflection, I believe that you prevaricated, and I have returned to obtain the truth."

"Lady, I don't know nothin' about that kid."

I stepped around the door and stood there, my feet apart and my thumbs in my belt. I'd pulled my hat down over my eyes, and though I'm just average sized I knew that the pose would make me impressive. I didn't say anything, just stared at Sterner.

"This is my colleague," Cecelia said, and pressed on. I was proud of her – she was improvising beautifully, not saying too much about me, just letting me create whatever impression I wanted. "I believe you do know something about her. Perhaps you have not actually seen her, much less conducted the recording for any of her appearances." I suspected that only I could have caught the hesitation as Cecelia sought the right word. I'm sure she wanted to use something far more pejorative for the shoots that the girl had been part of. "But I believe that you at least know of her, and have some notion of where I might seek her."

"Well..."

Cecelia pounced. "What do you know?" It was the perfect question. She wasn't asking, anymore, whether he knew something – she was assuming he did, and asking about that. Her style wasn't mine, but she seemed to have an instinctive feel for what to ask when.

"Well, I heard a few things."

"What things?" She took a couple of steps forward. He was indeed a smallish man, perhaps an inch shorter than Cecelia, who's 5'7". Closer to him, she could use that little bit of height, and he couldn't avoid that arrogant face.