Chapter 14

The next morning the interviewers met at the office at seven. I assigned areas – smaller ones containing apartment complexes, and larger ones where the people mostly lived in houses. There weren't any homes in any of the areas, unless the people who lived in the houses or apartments had created them – but I didn't impart that bit of philosophy to the people I briefed. Cecelia knows my convictions on the point, and agrees, and for the rest it was irrelevant. They could call a building a home if they wanted to, though it would make me cringe, just so long as they did good interviews.

I sent everyone else out to their areas just before eight, except for Cecelia, who I kept by me. I didn't need to – I could deal with the incoming "army" by myself – but I wanted to. And having seen me brief the interviewers, it might be helpful to her to hear me brief the volunteers too. There's a lot to being a PI, especially in the size operation we were putting together. Before it was over she'd know things she didn't even know existed yet.

The volunteers started trickling in almost as soon as the interviewers were gone. I waited till we had an office full – more than I'd expected, really, considering how few families can afford to have just one income these days. Cecelia and I had that sort of money, but most people living the way we do, which isn't at all fancy, need more money coming in than one person can make. Maybe when I was a kid it wasn't really the good old days, but at least it was easier for a woman to be a housewife without worrying about where the cash was coming from.

I sat in my leather chair – for once I didn't have much choice, for there wasn't any room elsewhere in my office for me – and explained what we needed. The first order of business was someone to answer the phone.

"I can do that," said an older woman. "I was a receptionist for 15 years."

"You got it," I said. "If someone wants an appointment, I'm not available for 'em until further notice. If someone wants to talk to me on the phone, get a number and tell 'em I'll call back when I can. If it's about the case, get as much information as you can – I know you're not a detective, so I've roughed up a checklist of things to try to learn." I handed the paper over the desk, and hands passed it along until it was where it belonged. "If you come across information that seems like I need to know it right away, my cell phone's on that sheet – but don't call me unless it's urgent."

She nodded.

"The phone rings either in here or out on Cecelia's desk, so feel free to sit wherever you want. If you want to, you can lock the outer door and refuse to answer knocks – if you decide to let people in, the same rules apply."

She nodded again.

"As for the rest," I said, "it's grunt work. Cecelia went out last night and bought a ton of staplers and staples, and duct tape. Use whichever's appropriate to the situation. I've got areas for each of you." I handed around assignments. "If it's easier for you to take a different area than the one I assign, feel free to swap among yourselves. It's not important who puts up a poster on a particular corner, as long as someone does. On your sheets you'll find my cell phone number. The instruction applies to you that applies to Sister Benson." That was the lady who'd be answering the phone. "But I don't expect you'll run into the guy, nor yet into proof of his identity and whereabouts. You're doing necessary work, but it is grunt work. I truly appreciate it, but the fact is that out of 100 posters you put up, and 100 clerks you explain yourself to, you might get one tidbit of information, and that'll probably prove to be irrelevant."

I took a breath. "For that matter, those of us who are going to be knocking on doors are going to have about that much success. Y'all aren't investigators and don't need to be, but take it from me – most of this job is talking to people who either don't know what you need to find out, or who lie to you about it for no rational reason. It's going to take all of us, and if after 12 hours of putting up posters all you've got is sunburn and sore feet, you've still done good work, you've still done important work."

I grinned. "Okay, end of pep talk. You're all adults, you don't need me cheerleading for you to turn in an honest day's work. Any questions?"

There were none, so I sent them on their way. I took in a deep breath, and stood up. I grabbed my gun out of the drawer and my hat off its table. Cecelia was already wearing her gun, in preparation for going downstairs. We'd both driven to the office, since we would be working separately. We'd leave our guns in the cars, there being little choice about it – going to people's doors armed would just scare everyone – but neither of us was comfortable leaving our guns in the parking lot while we were in the office. I don't suppose it's consistent to feel okay leaving them in the car while going door to door but not while in the office, but whoever said human beings are consistent didn't know what he was talking about.

"You ready, C?" I asked.