coming. Once I finished feeding Lucy, I went looking for Alan, who was in the process of removing the platter containing Marge’s leftover lasagna from the fridge.
“How long has it been since you’ve had a good steak?” I asked.
“Years, probably,” he answered.
“You’re in luck, then,” I told him. “Leave that lasagna where it is. There’s a great steakhouse just up the street, and we can be there at five P.M. when the doors open.”
“But what about Athena?” he asked.
Detectives must be observant. In the course of a couple of days, I had learned that once Athena was fed, she generally went straight to sleep and stayed that way for the better part of two hours. As it happened, Athena’s dinnertime had coincided with Lucy’s.
“We’ll wrap her up and bring her along. The restaurant is only a little over a block from here. Since we’ll be unfashionably early, we’ll nestle her into a corner booth and she’ll sleep . . . well, like a baby.”
We both laughed at that, and it’s exactly how things worked out. We walked from the condo to the restaurant, with Alan carrying the infant seat containing a cozily bundled Athena. Roger, the maître d’ at El Gaucho, might have been a bit startled to have two women-free older men turn up with a loaded infant seat, but he recovered nicely and took us straight to the corner booth tucked in behind the kitchen, which happens to be Mel’s and my favorite spot. Alan deferred to me as far as ordering was concerned, and we ended up with tableside Caesars, filet mignons, an order of mashed potatoes, and a side order of roasted corn. My customary O’Doul’s arrived without my having to ask for it. Alan ordered iced tea.
As predicted, Athena slept peacefully throughout the meal without letting out so much as a peep. We had decided against desserts and were in the process of boxing up leftovers when my phone rang—with an unknown 206 number showing in caller ID.
“Mr. Beaumont?” an unfamiliar voice inquired when I answered. “Rachel Seymour here.”
My heartbeat quickened as she continued.
“I’ve located Naomi Dale. Your source was correct, she was at the all-female encampment and agreed to come along to the mission. She’s in the process of settling into her room and having a bite of dinner. I told her that a private detective hired on her father’s behalf came by looking for her. She’s willing to see you, but she’s not interested in seeing him. There’s evidently some bad blood there.”
“Should I stop by tonight?” I asked.
“That’s probably the best idea,” Rachel said. “She’s here, but there’s no guarantee about how long she’ll stay.”
“All right, then,” I said. “I’m just finishing up with dinner. I’ll be there within the next half hour or so.”
The call ended. “Be where?” Alan asked.
“The Pike Street Mission.”
“Did they find her?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Amen,” he said. “So let’s go, then.” Jumping up, he grabbed for the infant seat.
“Wait,” I told him. “It’s not that simple. She’s willing to talk to me, but she doesn’t want to see you.”
Disappointment washed across his face. Alan dropped back into the booth, landing full force, as though someone had just lopped both legs off at the knees. He buried his face in his hands.
“She’ll never forgive me,” he muttered, “and I guess I don’t blame her.”
“Forgive you for what?”
“For what I said to her. The last time I ever spoke to Naomi was over the phone. Jasmine was in the hospital dying. I begged Naomi to come home long enough to go to the hospital and say good-bye. She told me to go to hell. That set me off, and the conversation devolved into a screaming match. I told Naomi she was a selfish brat, but that was the least of it. I called her a lot of other things, too—words I should never have used and will regret to my dying day. When the phone call ended, that’s when I realized I’d lost my last piece of Jasmine.”
It took a moment for me to figure out how to respond to that.
“Look,” I said finally. “You were in a terrible spot. Your wife was dying. God only knows what was going on in Naomi’s life about then. Maybe you both need a do-over. You hired me to find her, Alan. Let me. I’ll do my best to lobby on your behalf and on Athena’s behalf, too. Maybe I can talk some sense into Naomi’s head.”
“Good luck with that,” Alan said