“Not that I recall.”
“Monica, I really need your help here. We need to find this man right away. I’m going to ask you to think back, think real hard, and remember anything distinctive about him. What he wore, what he said, what he carried, what he did. Anything that might give us a clue about who he is and where we can find him.”
Monica sat up very straight in her chair, and her neck looked elongated. The librarian’s tongue slipped out to wet her lips. Amanda was reminded of a giraffe at the zoo, reaching to get a leaf from a distant tree branch.
“He had a blue backpack with him,” she said. “That was where he carried his materials. I really don’t remember how he was dressed. Jeans, maybe? Otherwise, there wasn’t anything special about him. I’m very sorry.”
Amanda was disappointed. “How about a car? Did you see him come or go, or see what direction he might have headed?”
Monica shook her head.
“Have you seen him since then?”
“No, he never came back, not when I was here.”
Amanda stood up. “I appreciate your time, Monica. Thanks very much for calling me. If you remember anything else, please let me know.”
“Of course I will.”
As Amanda turned to leave, she heard Monica giggling. She reversed her course. “What is it?”
Monica blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s very silly. I was just thinking, if you want to catch this man, you should stake out doughnut shops.” She laughed again.
Amanda looked at her, wondering if this was a stupid police joke. “Why?”
“Well, I remember now, the man was obsessed with Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I caught him eating a doughnut at the fiche machine, and I had to tell him that he couldn’t eat in the library. I told him I couldn’t resist those things either, and he said they were addictive.”
Amanda felt her heart race. “Thanks again, Monica.”
Son of a bitch, she thought Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Claire sat with one leg tucked beneath her and the other leg dangling from Serena’s sofa. She cradled a warm mug of coffee in both hands. Her hair was loose and uncombed, and she wore a roomy, extralong T-shirt that stretched to the middle of her thighs. She had bare feet, with nails painted red.
She glanced at the wall clock that tick-tocked behind them, counting away the minutes. “It’s late,” she murmured. “Past eleven. Where’s your lover?”
Serena looked up from the computer on her lap, although she could barely concentrate on the screen. Her eyes were tired.
“He’s still out trying to find Blake,” Serena said.
“You resent it, don’t you? Being here with me.”
“No, I don’t resent being with you. Sitting around just isn’t my style. I want to be where the action is.”
“That’s right,” Claire said with a grin. “You’re tough, aren’t you?”
“That’s me.”
In fact, it had driven her crazy, being shut up in the town home all day. She had made calls, hunted down leads on the Internet, and gone back through her notes to find something she had missed, but none of it was the same as being on the street. She felt isolated, cut off from the investigation.
“He’s attractive, your man. I see what you see in him.”
“Thanks.”
“He loves you. It’s there when he looks at you.”
Serena remembered that Jonny had said the same thing about Claire the previous night. “I love him,” she said.
“I’ve been with men, too, you know,” Claire said.
“Meaning?”
“It’s not like I don’t understand the attraction.”
Claire unfurled her legs and climbed off the sofa. She padded to the white wall and examined the desert photographs hung there. “Did you take these?”
She looked back, and Serena nodded.
“They’re striking. You have an eye for the land. That’s what they can’t teach, you know. The eye. A lot of people understand the mechanics, but they can’t see the picture.”
“You’re pretty calm about it,” Serena told her.
“About what?”
“About almost getting killed.”
Claire shrugged. “I wasn’t calm last night. But I feel safe with you.”
“I could take you to Boni’s place. It’s like a fortress there.”
“That’s not safe. That’s a prison.”
“He wants to make up with you,” Serena said. “He was glad you called him.”
“Oh, are you a family therapist now?”
“No, but I know what it’s like to be an adult without parents. There are a lot of times when I wish things were different.”
Claire continued to stare at the photographs on the wall, but Serena thought she had touched a sensitive spot. “I wish things were different, too, Serena. But they’re not.”
“He says he doesn’t care that you’re gay.”
“Catholics never care if you’re gay, as long as you’re celibate,” Claire said.
Serena watched Claire smile and realized it was false. She thought Claire might cry.
“It has nothing to do with your being gay, does it?” Serena asked. “The split between you and Boni.”
“No.”
“What is it, then?”
Claire shook her head. “It was a long time ago. I don’t want to go back there.”
She could hear it in Claire’s tone. The secret was profoundly horrible, whatever it was. “I’ve got monsters like that, too.”
“I know you do. That’s why we click. We both have pasts we’re trying to run from.”
“Did you get therapy?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Claire sighed. “Please, Serena. Let’s drop it. I couldn’t talk about it then. I can’t talk about it now. Not to anyone. Not when my father’s name is Boni Fisso.”
Serena let the silence stretch out while Claire stared blankly at the photographs. She could see raw pain in her face.
“Boni says you’ve got millions in the bank,” Serena said.
Claire smiled, a real one this time. “Are you after me for my money now?”
“I was just curious.”
“When I left, I wanted to be independent. I am. Boni didn’t give me a stake. I built it myself. So yes, I’ve got a lot of money. I’m Boni’s daughter; genes count for something. Plus all that time I spent in business school.”
“But you’re happy living in a small apartment? Singing your songs?”
“I’ve learned a lot being on my own,” Claire said. “I’m free, and no one owns me. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t have any ambition. There’s a part of me that still longs to be in charge of the hotels and run them my way.”
“You still could be.”
Claire shook her head. “Not if it means going back to my father.”
“How would you run them?” Serena asked. “If you had the keys to the kingdom.”
“Me? I’m tired of all the bigness. Big shows. Big names. I think people want intimacy. They don’t want to get lost in a crowd. They want to see singers, not shows. Talent, not names. And glamour, like in the old days. The huge resorts have glitz but not much character.”
“You could start your own place.”
Claire was wistful. “Maybe someday. It would be nice to show Boni that I can do it without him. And that you don’t have to sell your soul to the devil to be successful.”
Serena heard bitterness creep back into her voice. “You want to tell me what he did to you?”
“It wasn’t him,” Claire said. “It was someone else. But Boni let it happen. The business came first, like it always does.” She looked as if she were about to say more, but she clapped her arms around her body and shivered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
“It’s in the past. I don’t worry about it. I like to sing and drink and talk about life and make passionate love.”
“I like two out of the four,” Serena said, laughing.
“Which two?”
“Well, we know I don’t drink.”