And this time, I very much wanted to be found.
Which was why I was using another detective’s office. Mr. Jim Knighthorse was a piece of work, and his office was riddled with bullet holes, bloodstains and dog hair, but he let me borrow it for the week, and for that, I was grateful.
Presently, he was on a road trip to Sedona, following up clues to his own case, one that involved a child actor who might or might not be dead. Private eyes are like that. We follow the clues to wherever they may take us. Sometimes they take us to dark places. Other times, they take us to Sedona. At least, he got to write-off a trip.
Anyway, using Knighthorse’s office as a launching point, I followed up with anyone and everyone who might know Lucy Gleason. I visited her parents, her friends, her co-workers. I let them all know that I was looking for her. I gave them all newly printed cards that had Knighthorse’s office address on them.
I did this throughout the week, for hours on end, running people down as they went to work, came home from work, at lunchtime, in their offices. I harassed anyone who knew Lucy, focusing on her family, although I never did come across her sister. I also never came across the red SUV, but that was okay. I had gotten the word out—and there was no evidence that I was going to let up, either.
Now, I knew, it was just a matter of time.
My new rings worked marvelously. I could just kiss the Librarian again, and I just might. I wore one on each index finger, and with them, I was able to work most of the days while my sister watched over my kids. Additionally, I woke up easily and dreamed deeply. But best of all. Best of all...
Was the food.
Oh, God, the food...
* * *
It had taken me two days to work up the courage to eat and in the end, I had just suggested takeout for my first meal.
“Are you nervous?” asked Kingsley on that second day. We were both staring down at a plate full of rich gnocchi from my favorite Italian restaurant—that is, back when I could have Italian food—Geno’s in the City of Orange.
“A little,” I said. “I mean, what if the ring doesn’t work?”
“Then I expect to see you running to the bathroom. That is, if this shithole has a bathroom.”
“It’s outside,” I said, motioning through Knighthorse’s now-open pebbled-glass door. “And down the hallway.”
“Classy,” said Kingsley. “Well, are you going to try it or not?”
“Give me a minute.”
“It’s getting cold, Sam,” said Kingsley, grinning. “And it looks awfully good, whatever it is. Guh-noshi.”
“Gnocchi,” I said, pronouncing it correctly. “And they’re potatoes.”
“And why again did you pick potatoes over meat for your first meal?”
“Because...they’ll go down a little easier. My stomach hasn’t had to digest anything other than blood in nearly a decade. Well, blood, wine and water.”
“Sounds like a Christian band,” said Kingsley. “Blood, Wine and Water.”
“Will you just zip it?” I said. “This is serious business. You do realize that this will be the first time I will have eaten anything—”
“Yes, Sam. The first time since the last time you sneaked some Oreos a few years ago and subsequently vomited them within seconds.”
“No one likes a know-it-all,” I said. “And this is a momentous occasion for me.”
“And you’re sharing it with me,” said Kingsley. “Should I be touched?”
“You should be quiet,” I said, but gave him a half-smile.
He made a gesture of zipping his lips closed, locking them, and tossing away the key.
“Okay,” I said. “Here goes.”
Kingsley watched me with great interest and some amusement as I lifted a forkful of the still-steaming gnocchi—which Kingsley had thoughtfully brought to me on his lunch break—up from the plate and toward my lips. That it smelled heavenly went without saying. My mouth watered. A very human reaction.
“Here goes,” I said.
“You said that.”
“Right.”
And in it went, slowly. I wrapped my lips around the fork hesitantly, cautiously, then used my teeth to scrape the gnocchi clean off. Butter, olive oil and garlic exploded in my mouth. I had wondered if my taste buds would even work. But they did—and then some. More so than I was prepared for.
“Oh, my God.”
“That good, huh?”
“Mmm. Holy shit.”
“Jesus, Sam. You’re gonna turn me on.”
But I wasn’t listening to him. I was doing all I could to not dive headfirst into the greasy to-go box. Still, I waited. After all, it had only been a few seconds since that first bite. I forced myself to set aside the fork...and waited.
“What are you doing?” asked Kingsley.
“I’m waiting.”
He nodded, getting it. “Oh, right. Barf city. Fingers crossed.”
“Fingers and toes.”
A minute went by. And then another.
“We in the clear?” asked Kingsley. “Should I run for the exit?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any pain?”
“No pain,” I said.
“Feel like vomiting?”
“Only when I see your face.”
He reached for the to-go box. “Take that back, or I’m taking back the food.”
“You want another fork in your hand?”
“Sam...”
“Fine. Your face doesn’t make me want to vomit. there’s a small chance that you are still kind of cute. A very small chance.”
“Better,” he said, and retracted his hand. “I think.”
A minute later, while Kingsley feasted on a boxful of riblets, I ate my second bite of gnocchi...and loved every chew. It didn’t take me long to finish that box...and I was already hungry for more.
* * *
That had been three days ago, and I have been eating heartily ever since. Eating anything and everything. Thank the good Lord, I wasn’t gaining any weight. At least, not yet.
Now, a week after canvassing the area—often with a full stomach—I finally hit pay dirt.
Pay dirt in this case was the sound of a car pulling up outside of Knighthorse’s office. I pushed aside the Cinnabon I had been devouring and closed my eyes, casting my mind out, and saw her emerge from a blue compact car. Dark hair, big glasses. It was her, minus the wig. She had dyed her hair.
I licked my sticky fingers clean and shot Detective Sharp a quick text: She’s here.