very helpful, Sue, and it’s been a great lunch.”
“Anything,” she said with feeling. “I want her found. I want to know what happened to her.”
“I’ll do my best. Do you happen to know where she lived before this address?” I showed her the one Sandy had given me.
She shook her head. “That’s where she lived when I met her. I think she said she’d moved there around the time she started working at Hopkins.”
“Do you know if she ever had a roommate?”
“No idea. She didn’t when I met her.”
“Old boyfriends?” I asked.
“She went out, but if there was anyone important, I don’t think I knew about him. She would mention names sometimes, but mostly first names. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
“You’ve helped me a lot.” I opened my bag and took out the ring of keys. “Do you recognize these?”
She shook her head. “Can’t say I do, can’t say I don’t. Should I?”
“I don’t know.” I wrote my name, address, and phonenumber on a piece of paper and gave it to her. “In case you think of anything. Did you tell the detective substantially what you told me?”
“Substantially. I didn’t tell him she thought she was pregnant.”
“Why not?”
“He didn’t ask and I didn’t think it was his business.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“Thank you for talking about her in the present tense.”
I had noticed she had done the same. I shook her hand, wished her well, and got my coat. Outside it was still bitter cold. As I walked to the car, for the first time I thought I heard my biological clock ticking.
7
It was two o’clock when I started the car and ten after when I spotted a pay phone. I didn’t know if Friday afternoon was a good time to call for an appointment, but I wanted to get one at Hopkins and Jewell as soon as possible. A very self-possessed sounding woman answered and I told her I was looking into the disappearance of Natalie Miller Gordon and wanted to talk to someone who had known her.
“Is this concerned with her disappearance?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Who do you represent?”
I told her I was working for Sandy Gordon.
“I’ll have to check it out, ma’am, before I can make an appointment.”
I told her that would be fine and she put me on hold. I took some more quarters out of my bag and waited. I always carry quarters with me because they’re good for parking meters as well as pay phones. I haven’t yet come to terms with credit cards, although if I ever do, it’s my shoulder that will benefit.
“He says it’s OK,” she said, coming back sooner than I expected. “When would you like to come in?”
“I can probably be there in an hour.”
“I’ll squeeze you in when you get here.”
—
I had surprised myself by saying I would drive into the city, but where I was calling from was closer to New York than where I lived, so it made sense to go from here instead of waiting for Monday and going from Oakwood. Besides, the sooner is always the better.
There was little traffic until I got below Forty-second Street, and it picked up again when I got on Eighteenth Street and drove east. When I was more or less in the area of Hopkins and Jewell, I started looking around for a meter. I realized pretty quickly this was silly on two counts. One was, there weren’t any free, and the other was that Sandy had given me money for just this purpose. But I admit to having pangs of conscience when I drove into a parking garage.
An attractive young woman sat inside the door of the office and gave me a radiant smile. My name rang a bell and she made a call after asking me to take a seat.
“I have Christine Bennett here,” I heard her say. Then, “We’ll be right there.” She stood and invited me to join her. She was wearing a very short suede skirt and a matching vest over a black blouse. At a door at the end of the hall, she knocked, waited, then opened it “Go right in,” she said.
To my surprise, the person who rose from behind the
“Anything,” she said with feeling. “I want her found. I want to know what happened to her.”
“I’ll do my best. Do you happen to know where she lived before this address?” I showed her the one Sandy had given me.
She shook her head. “That’s where she lived when I met her. I think she said she’d moved there around the time she started working at Hopkins.”
“Do you know if she ever had a roommate?”
“No idea. She didn’t when I met her.”
“Old boyfriends?” I asked.
“She went out, but if there was anyone important, I don’t think I knew about him. She would mention names sometimes, but mostly first names. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
“You’ve helped me a lot.” I opened my bag and took out the ring of keys. “Do you recognize these?”
She shook her head. “Can’t say I do, can’t say I don’t. Should I?”
“I don’t know.” I wrote my name, address, and phonenumber on a piece of paper and gave it to her. “In case you think of anything. Did you tell the detective substantially what you told me?”
“Substantially. I didn’t tell him she thought she was pregnant.”
“Why not?”
“He didn’t ask and I didn’t think it was his business.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“Thank you for talking about her in the present tense.”
I had noticed she had done the same. I shook her hand, wished her well, and got my coat. Outside it was still bitter cold. As I walked to the car, for the first time I thought I heard my biological clock ticking.
7
It was two o’clock when I started the car and ten after when I spotted a pay phone. I didn’t know if Friday afternoon was a good time to call for an appointment, but I wanted to get one at Hopkins and Jewell as soon as possible. A very self-possessed sounding woman answered and I told her I was looking into the disappearance of Natalie Miller Gordon and wanted to talk to someone who had known her.
“Is this concerned with her disappearance?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Who do you represent?”
I told her I was working for Sandy Gordon.
“I’ll have to check it out, ma’am, before I can make an appointment.”
I told her that would be fine and she put me on hold. I took some more quarters out of my bag and waited. I always carry quarters with me because they’re good for parking meters as well as pay phones. I haven’t yet come to terms with credit cards, although if I ever do, it’s my shoulder that will benefit.
“He says it’s OK,” she said, coming back sooner than I expected. “When would you like to come in?”
“I can probably be there in an hour.”
“I’ll squeeze you in when you get here.”
—
I had surprised myself by saying I would drive into the city, but where I was calling from was closer to New York than where I lived, so it made sense to go from here instead of waiting for Monday and going from Oakwood. Besides, the sooner is always the better.
There was little traffic until I got below Forty-second Street, and it picked up again when I got on Eighteenth Street and drove east. When I was more or less in the area of Hopkins and Jewell, I started looking around for a meter. I realized pretty quickly this was silly on two counts. One was, there weren’t any free, and the other was that Sandy had given me money for just this purpose. But I admit to having pangs of conscience when I drove into a parking garage.
An attractive young woman sat inside the door of the office and gave me a radiant smile. My name rang a bell and she made a call after asking me to take a seat.
“I have Christine Bennett here,” I heard her say. Then, “We’ll be right there.” She stood and invited me to join her. She was wearing a very short suede skirt and a matching vest over a black blouse. At a door at the end of the hall, she knocked, waited, then opened it “Go right in,” she said.
To my surprise, the person who rose from behind the
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