Stephanie Bradshaw, sitting at the other side of the kitchen table, said, "You're going to try to trace him through phone calls?"

"If there are any suspicious numbers for incoming calls, we'll investigate them, of course. But you don't recall any 'funny' phone calls during the time leading up to her disappearance?"

"No. No breathers, no hang-ups. And I don't recall her acting suspicious when she took calls. She never went into another room, or acted furtive."

"It's unlikely that he would have been harassing her by phone, and you wouldn't have been at least marginally aware of it. No, what I want to do is see if the records can help me find where she's gone."

"How could they possibly do that?"

Nana was turning three thick steaks on a griddle. "She had to do a little searching to find herself another place, dear. That means contacting rental agencies and landlords."

"She might have done it while she was at work, and she'd probably have them call her back there," said Milda, "but there's a chance she did it from home when you were away, and we have to look into that."

"I'll call them tomorrow."

"Oh, no, no. You'll have to go in--they'll never agree over the phone to release information," said Nana, taking one steak off the griddle. When she settled it on the plate, dark, red-brown juices oozed from the punctures left by the fork. "It's a shame they have to be so careful, but what with the world the way it is... Stephanie, you want yours medium rare, right?"

"Please, but you don't have to go through so much trouble," said Stephanie.

"Oh, hush. I ran a boarding house for years, and I learned to enjoy cooking. What with business and all, the girls are almost never all here. I enjoy the chance to feed someone else. It was a real treat just fixing a sandwich for that young man when he was here."

"Now that I think about it, we need to ask Randal to go in with Stephanie," said Milda. "He can flash his badge and sort of project the idea that this is for the police. I think they'll release the information to him a lot more quickly than they would to anyone they see as a plain old citizen."

Nana dropped a pile of shredded onions on the griddle next to the other two steaks, and there was a fragrant sizzle. "As if you girls are plain old citizens."

Milda laughed. "But they don't know that, and that's the way we want to keep it." The doorbell rang. Nana started toward the hall, but Milda said, "I'll get it. Your onions could burn if you leave them that long."

She made her way out, and she was smiling before she got to the end of the hall. Randal was staring right up into the camera, as if he could see her. She quickly tapped in the code and opened the door. He tipped down his sunglasses, peering at her over the rims. "What? I don't have to tap dance to be let in this time?"

Milda turned and shifted her hips, tapping one hip against him. Given her height, and the way he was standing, Randal got a quick, soft press against his crotch before she stepped back. "I prefer The Bump. Have you eaten?"

"Are you sure this isn't my grandmother's house in disguise?" he said as he entered. "Every time I come here, someone tries to feed me?"

Milda was relocking the door. "Want me to tell the others to stop it?"

"Hell no! I'm a bachelor--any home cooking I can get is fine by me."

Nana smiled warmly as they entered the kitchen. "Randal! Have you--?"

"I don't think he has, Nana," said Milda cheerfully. She pointed. "His nose is twitching."

"Is not," Randal protested, taking off his sunglasses as he sniffed the scent of cooking meat and onions. "My nostrils might be flaring, but my nose is not twitching. I don't want to eat anyone else's dinner."

Nana snorted. "As if I wouldn't have enough to feed one more mouth. How to you take your steak?"

"Rare. I don't want it to crawl off the plate, but not far from that."

"Well, that's just about perfect." Nana was reaching into the refrigerator, and she came up with another thick steak. "You can take that one that's plated up, and I'll have this one ready for Milda in a jiffy."

"I can wait."

Nana started to say something, but Milda beat her to it. "No, you can't. You're a guest--you get served first. And don't worry about me." Nana had taken the other two steaks off the griddle, and was lowering the last one. "I like mine like you like yours, so there won't be much of a wait."

"Lay the table, would you, dear?"

"C'mon and earn your supper." Milda started unloading the necessities from the cabinets, handing them to Randal.

"Aren't Acacia and Naresha joining us?" he asked.

"Not tonight. They've gone out."

Stephanie looked up, curious. "Have they? I didn't see them leave."

"You'd be surprised at how invisible they can be when they want to," said Nana casually.

"Yes, I would," said Randal, beginning to lay flatware beside each plate. "Those two are very easy to notice."

"Milda," said Nana. She paused, glancing at Randal. "Do you want some of your tomato juice tonight?"

Milda looked at Randal thoughtfully, then said, "I'd like something warm tonight, Nana. Tomato soup, perhaps?"

Nana smiled. "Of course. I'm sorry, you other two, but there's only enough for Milda." She took a microwave safe bowl and filled it from a jug in the refrigerator, then popped it into the microwave to warm. "She needs it for the vitamins."

In just another couple of minutes they were all seated at the table, eating. Randal took a bite of steak, then said, "Milda, I've never seen anyone eat soup so quickly and still look dainty."

"Wait till she starts on the steak," said Nana. "She's better than Casey, but all the girls are a little barbaric when it comes to their meat."

Randal took a slice of bread from a basket. "This is home baked, right? Is anyone going to get offended if I mop my plate? It goes against my religion to let all those juices go to waste." In reply, Milda and Nana both took slices and dipped them in their plate. "You are some classy ladies. Now, since the other girls are out, do you want to hear what I found out now, or wait?"

Stephanie spoke up quickly. "Now. Full speed ahead."

Between bites, Randal gave them the information he'd gathered. Finally he pushed his empty plate away, saying, "So that's the fellow doctor and his family, the former head of residents and the nurse, and the retired priest. I think the best bets would be the best friend doctor, the boss, and the priest."

"Why those three?" asked Stephanie.

Milda said, "Pretty obvious. The doctor was his best friend, and the boss would probably know any stress he had at work."

"And the priest?"

Randal folded his hands and intoned, "Bless me father, for I have sinned."

"Oh," said Stephanie. "But he wouldn't tell that, would he?"

Randal shrugged. "People mean well, but sometimes they slip and tell you things when they don't intend to. It's worth a try. So, who goes to see who first?"

"Are you going to be able to help us out tomorrow? Don't you have to work?"

"I'm a bit psychic. I just had a premonition that I'm going to be sick tomorrow."

Milda smiled at him. "I think there's a twelve year old boy trapped somewhere inside you. We need you to go to the telephone company tomorrow with Steph, so you can act all official if you need to bump things up a little. Then you might visit the priest and see what he has to say. Nana can visit the nurse and the supervisor tomorrow, and my sisters and I will check out the best friend and his family."

"Suits me, I suppose" said Randal. "But are you sure I should be the one to talk to the priest?" He indicated his black ensemble. "A couple of ladies at the hospital took me as a priest, but only for a minute, and I don't think the Father will be fooled even that much."

"Yes, Randal. For reasons I can't go into right now, you're the best one to speak to him."

Everyone had finished eating by now, and Nana began gathering the plates. When Randal started to stack, Nana said, "Don't make me slap your hands, boy. Milda, why don't you get this man out from under my feet while I tidy up? Take him for a tour of the house." She gave Milda a look. "Your sisters won't mind, will they?"

Milda cocked her head, then said, "No, I don't think so, as long as we don't go poking around. Are you interested, Randal?"

"Are you kidding? There's nothing I'd rather explore, including J. Edgar Hoover's secret files."

"Good." She stood up. "I'll show you Acacia's room first, since it's the closest. It's in the basement, over here."

As she led him down the stairs, he said, "And this way we'll get out of here first, so that it's less likely that Acacia will come home and discover us, and prove you wrong by gutting me."

Milda laughed. "Oh, she wouldn't do that--not while you're working with us. She might just maim you a little."

"That's a comforting thought." At the foot of the stairs, he peered into the dark, cavernous space ahead. "It looks like a cave. Somehow, it fits her."

"You know, she'd take that as a compliment." Milda started into the darkness.

"Whoa," said Randal. "Don't you have a flashlight, or something?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Milda flipped a switch by the stairs, and a distant corner of the basement was brightly illuminated. "I keep forgetting that not everyone knows this place as well as we do."

They walked over to the living corner, and Randal paused at the edge of the shag rug, looking around. "Good Christ. Mike Meyers could film the next Austin Powers movie right here." He walked slowly around the area, examining various items. "A lava lamp, and a black light lamp."

Milda pointed up to one of several light fixtures on the ceiling. "And a strobe light, and a mirror ball. When Acacia gets into the music and gets things going down here, this isn't a safe place for epileptics."

"A Wurlitzer!" Randal went quickly to it, running his hands over the shining top. "I don't believe this! It's been ages since I saw one of these in a public place, and I used to love them when I was a kid! I mean, getting to choose the music... Of course most of the time they didn't have what I liked--all those bright, bouncy tunes. I mean, at least the fifties had angst in their teenage death songs. Man, I wish I had a quarter."

"That isn't necessary. Acacia had it rigged so that all you need to do is punch the buttons."

"Cool!" Randal bent, studying the play list. "Would it be all right if I...?"

"Sure." She waited, curious to see what he'd choose.

Randal skimmed his finger along the glass, then nodded, and punched a couple of buttons. "I like current music, but for great slow dance tunes, you have to go back to the fifties or early sixties." The music started, and a clear male voice sang, "Don't know much about history. Don't know much biology. Don't know much about a science book..."

"Man was only thirty-three when he died," said Randal. "What a fucking waste." He grinned at Milda and held out his hand. "May I have the pleasure?"

"It's a good thing this is a slow one," said Milda, stepping up to him. "Acacia's the one who can dance to anything, but I can just sort of sway and shuffle."

Randal took her right hand, and slipped his other arm around her waist. "That's all you need to do." They danced, moving in a slow pattern, barely shifting more than two or three feet. At first Milda looked up into his face. Their eyes met, bright blue gazing up into hazel. After a few moments, though, she put her head down, resting a flushed cheek against Randal's chest. She swayed with him, listening to the strong, steady thud of his heart, then the soft rumble of words as he sang along. "Now, I don't claim to be an A-student, but I'm tryin' to be. For maybe by being an A-student, baby, I'd win your love for me..."

The music died away, and they stood still, but they didn't turn loose of each other. Randal let go of her hand, and Milda's hand drifted up to rest on his shoulder. Randal put his fingers under her chin, tipping her face up, and said softly, "Look at me." She gazed up at him, eyes grave, but with a slight smile gracing her lips. "That's what I needed to see."

He bent his head and kissed her. The kiss was almost chaste--to begin with. But then Randal felt a tiny, moist dab at his lips, and he deepened the kiss, his lips moving on Milda's with more force, and insistence.

After a moment she pulled away slightly, but there was no rejection in her expression. "There's still a lot to see." When she tried to move out of his embrace, Randal's arm tightened around her waist, and she said, "And Acacia would have a fit if we had sex on her bed."

"What about her rug?" Randal's voice was a little hoarse.

"Staining that would be a capital offence. Patience." She led him out of the basement. Stephanie and Nana had gone to their rooms, and the kitchen was empty. "You've seen the office, so there's not much more down here. First I'm going to take you directly up to Naresha's place on the top floor."

They went directly up to the third floor, and Randal got a quick look at Naresha's study (littered with the art supplies she used in designing her clothes), and her workroom (piled with bolts of cloth and housing several sewing machines and tailor's dummies.) Then Milda showed him Naresha's bedroom. It looked like it belonged to a Goth princess--which was exactly what he would have expected--with a heavy four-poster bed and lots of rich crimson and black draperies. He had a good laugh over Naresha's closet, and Milda said, "Maybe you think it's funny, but she can take a good half-hour choosing an outfit."

"I guess she's always looking for that darker shade of black. Now do I get to see your place?"

She took him to the second floor and ushered him into a comfortable room that's walls were lined, floor to ceiling, with all sorts of books. Randal pulled one off the shelf and examined it. "Biochemical Properties and Potentials of Indigenous Plants: Northwest America." He put it up, then pulled down a cheap looking paperback. "High Stakes Hussies. 'They gambled--and lost!' You have eclectic tastes."

"I think Acacia bought that one."

"Shock, shock."

Next she took him into a long room, lit by bright fluorescents. There was a sharp chemical smell to the place. "And this is my lab."

Randal stared around. "I've taken a couple of forensic courses, and this sucker is outfitted better than any college lab I've ever been in."

"Well, I probably have a better budget than they do, since I only have one person to buy equipment and supplies for--me. I've developed several formulas here that have been quite profitable for our businesses, especially in the beauty care line." Randal had picked up a flask--one that held about a quarter inch of yellow fluid. Milda took it away, quickly but carefully, and replaced it on the counter. "Please don't touch anything in here. It's not that I believe you won't be careful, but you really ought to know what you're dealing with in a place like this, for safety's sake."

"I'm all for safety. Am I going to get to see your bedroom now?"

"That was a fast change of subject."

"Darlin', you and I have been on the same subject pretty much since the moment we met," he said softly.

"Yes, I guess so." She took his hand and tugged him out of the lab and down the hall, then into her room.

Randal glanced around. The heavy furniture was of pale pine-- simple and clean of line, and polished to a fine gloss. "Nice furniture."

"Yes." Milda ran a hand over a dresser top. "I have some friends who do fantastic handwork. They did Naresha's room, too."

He lifted his chin toward the large brass bed. "Nice bed."

Milda sat on the edge, kicking off her sandals. "Comfortable, too."

"I'd like the chance to get to know it better." He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, looking thoughtful. "What's the word I'm searching for?" He dropped his eyes, locking their gazes. "Intimately." She patted the quilt beside her hip.

He smiled slowly, and went to sit beside her. He leaned toward her for a kiss, but was stopped by a finger against his lips. "First, let's get the practicalities out of the way. Do you have any protection?" He opened his jacket and showed her his shoulder holster.

Milda laughed. "I think you and Acacia will become friends, if she doesn't kill you first. I meant..."

"I know, and yes. Right trouser pocket, if want to slip on in there and check."

She twisted suddenly, supply, swinging her legs up over Randal's head and down behind him, the light material of her dress grazing his cheek, making him shiver, and she ended up lying on the bed. "I'll let you take care of that, but I'd prefer you get rid of the other form of protection first. Naresha probably wouldn't mind making love to a man with a gun strapped on... In fact, she probably has, but..."

"Say no more." He stood up and pulled off the jacket, then paused. "But if I take off the holster, I'm going to take off everything else." She smiled. "I'm so glad you said that." There was a large chest at the foot of the bed, and Randal deposited his jacket, then his holster and gun, there.

Milda watched as Randal removed his shirt, admiring the sculptured look of his torso, muscles rippling under the pale gleam of his skin. He toed off his shoes, then looked directly at her, and peeled down his socks as slowly as a burlesque queen removing her stockings.

This sent Milda into another fit of giggles, and she was still laughing when he sat on the bed beside her. Randal pressed his hands to the mattress on either side of her, and started to lean down, but stopped when he felt her hand against his chest. He gave her a questioning look.

"Randal," she said quietly. "I won't give you details, but I have to tell you this. It's been a long time for me. There's only been one man in my life. We weren't together for long, but I loved him very, very much..." Her voice broke slightly, "And he died."

Randal stared at her. Milda was laying herself bare to him--emotionally. He could see sorrow and pain in her eyes, and knew that no matter how long ago this had happened, it still hurt. He felt a welling up of tenderness toward the girl. He touched her cheek. "I'm glad that there was someone smart enough to love you, Milda. I'm sorry you lost him." He cupped her face. "I'm not going to try to replace him," he said softly. "I just want you to make a little space in your life for me."

Her hand slid up into his hair, no longer pushing him away, but pulling him down. "There's already a space, Randal. More like a hole, where something has been torn away, and I think you might be able to fill it."