"So, Warren...We hear you're looking for Roy Carver. What's your interest?"

"Got a client wants to find him. Not a lot of details."

"Well, we want to find him too. He's owed us big for a long time, and we mean to collect."

"I don't think he has any money left."

"That don't mean we don't collect. Find him yet?"

"Still chasing leads."

"That's good. You keep doing that. Cuz now you're working for us."

"I already got a client."

"Well, now you got two. You find Roy, you find anything about him, you go over to a pizza place on Lincoln called Louie's and you talk to the manager. You think you can find it?"

"Louie's on Lincoln. Sure. So what's in it for me?"

"You get half now, half later if you don't deliver."

"Don't you mean if I do deliver?"

The sedan had pulled into an alley off Madison. Two of the guys and their friend Mister Magnum dragged me out of the car and gave me my "half now". They didn't break anything -- they still wanted me to work -- but it was a pretty good taste of what my "half later" would be.

I sat back against a dumpster and worked on getting my breath back as I watched them drive away. Whoever they were, they seemed to be someone else Roy had pushed. Maybe he'd pushed with their money, or maybe he's just borrowed a lot from them. Whatever it was, it helped explain why running out of money wasn't enough, and why Roy had to disappear.

It also meant they at least hadn't found him yet, so maybe he could still be found.

I got back to my apartment, got cleaned up a bit, and gave Clara a call. I figured she was due a progress report. She figured it could happen over dinner, after she got off work. She named a french place I hadn't heard of -- Le Filet Rouge, or something like that -- and gave me the address.

Turns out I hadn't heard of it because places that far out of my range don't show up on my radar. I'd heard of places that had a red wine steward and a white wine steward; that place might even have a pink wine steward.

She met me at the door, and we were met by the maitre d'. "Good evening, Miss Collins. Lovely to see you again. Two this evening?" He looked me over as if trying to decide if I qualified for his establishment, or perhaps his customer.

We were taken to a table in the back that Clara seemed familiar with. She thanked the maitre d' by name. She thanked the water boy by name. The waiter greeted her by name and managed a polite smile for her guest. I had to ask. "So...come here often?"

"Oh yes! I love this place! The food is wonderful and the prices are so reasonable, the staff is so friendly, and it's right on the way home. I heard about it at work and thought I could never afford it, but now I come here all the time!"

I wondered what gold mine she had an interest in to make prices there seem reasonable, but then I looked at the menu. I had to look around a couple times to make sure I was in the right restaurant. I was looking at prices that belonged to some family chain, not this Eau de Poisson or whatever.

Most of the other diners seemed dressed and brushed and coiffed for the restaurant. They had the attitude, they got the matching attitude from the staff. It was only after my second once-over that I noticed their menus were a little different: theirs had gold tassels, while Clara's and mine were more bronze.

Maybe I wasn't the only one to cut rates for a sweet kid.

Over a bottle of wine I told Clara about my research. She didn't seem too surprised or bothered by it. "I knew it had to be something like that. We'd do different things, fine food and shows or hot dogs and playgrounds. I didn't understand it then, but I guess the money would come and go."

Her mother's assessment of her father was harder to take. She sat and listened, eyes on the table, lips pursed. "I never really knew the woman. Daddy was everything after she'd gone. He was everything, so I sort of thought of her as...nothing. She never existed for me."

"Do you want to get in touch with her?"

"I don't see the point. Did you find anyone else that knew him?"

I didn't mention the guys in the sedan. "A couple old business partners. They said they hadn't seen him. I don't think they're what you'd call friends."

I assured her I'd keep looking, and we let the shop talk go. Over the rest of dinner she asked about my work and I tried not to bore her. She told me about her work at the Herald, how she heard the paper was hiring during her freshman year at college. She'd started small but was working her way up. They were even helping with her tuition.

I offered to walk her home afterward. Turned out home was only a block and a half away, still in the sort of neighborhood that might have Le Canard en Fir. "Wow. The Herald's gotta be paying you a bundle if you can cover this place."

"Oh, it's not that much. My apartment is rent-controlled. I found an ad for it on the office bulletin board."

I hesitated at the lobby door. "You know...if I keep digging, I might find something out that you don't want to hear. You sure you want that? Sounds to me your memories of him are pretty nice."

"I had seven years with him. Then I had fourteen years without him. I'd really like to know why."

I nodded. "Okay, you got it. I'll get you your money's worth."

"I know you will." She gave me that sweet smile and squeezed my arm. "Good night, Mr. Warren."

"Good night, Miss Collins."