“Nnnnno. What’s this about?”
“Nothing. Never mind. My mistake. I think I have the wrong Nicolette.”
“Oh.” That seemed to calm her a bit. “But you really do look familiar. Did you ever date my brother?”
“It’s quite possible. I tend to date. Or, well, I used to. So, like where?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Where would your mother take out an ad?”
“Oh, well, she’s talked about taking out an ad in the personals but has also threatened to list me as an escort. You know, to get dates.”
I could understand that. Captain Eckert tensed, not used to having to listen to the idle chitchat of us womenfolk. “But we’ll let you go for now. So sorry about the mistake.”
I turned to leave, but the captain just stood there as though confused. Left with little choice, I took hold of his arm and led him away with me, a maneuver he did not appreciate at all.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“That’s it.”
“What was that about?”
“Nothing. I was mistaken.”
“You recognized her, so clearly —”
“No, I’m not sure what happened. That wasn’t the girl.”
“What girl?”
“The girl who might or might not be missing.”
“What makes you think there’s a missing woman? Did someone file a report?”
“I got an anonymous tip. Someone must be playing a joke.”
“Do you always go to such extremes for anonymous tips?”
“No. Sometimes.” He was trying to trip me up. He suspected something; he just had no idea what. I got that a lot. “It seemed legit at the time.”
Once I stuffed him into the elevator, I let go of his jacket sleeve. “Sorry,” I said, smoothing it.
He took a step in the opposite direction and gazed straight ahead when he spoke to me. “You solve cases, Davidson. A lot of them. I want to know how.”
Crap. This was not going to end well for anyone. “You know, it’s really all Uncle Bob. He’s great at his job.”
“I know he is, and yet I can’t help but wonder how good he would be if he didn’t have you at his beck and call.” He turned to me then. “Or is it him at your beck and call?”
The elevator doors opened. “I should probably be offended, Captain. My uncle is a fantastic detective. He’s helped me a lot over the years.”
“I’m sure he has. You scratch his back. He scratches yours.”
I backed off the elevator. “I have skin allergies. I’m itchy.” Before he could ask me anything else, I practically ran for the glass doors of the hospital.
The minute I got to Misery, I called Ubie. “So, I found our missing girl, but so did your captain.”
“What?” he asked, alarmed. “Captain Eckert was there? Did he see the body? Has he called in a team?”
“Not exactly. There’s no body. She’s alive. It’s a miracle!”
He let out a lengthy sigh, and I could see him scrubbing his face with his fingers. “Charley, you told me she came to you.”
“She did. Trust me, Uncle Bob, I am just as lost as you are. But we need to deal with your captain. He’s acting really strange. Like he knows something, or thinks he knows something. I’m not sure what to say around him. He wants to know how I am solving so many cases.”
“Damn. He said that?”
“Yes, and he knows that I’ve basically been helping both you and Dad since I was five. He went back and checked! How is that possible?”
“I have no idea, pumpkin. But everyone knows you help me with cases, thus the consultant position. Hell, he approved it.”
“Yeah, but now he’s getting curious. He’s digging. I totally shouldn’t have solved a murder, missing child, bank robber, and serial killer case all in one day. It drew too much attention. I’m going to have to spread out my cases better. Solve them at regular intervals.”
“That might be a good idea.”
I tried three more voices on my way to Rocket’s, and while I’d never considered Bela Lugosi particularly creepy, his telling me to turn right here and take a left there made me think he was leading me to my death. Especially since the guy had died before I was born and I doubted they had navigation back then. Either these voices were done by impersonators or Bela really was immortal. I ultimately decided to stick with Ozzy. I may get completely lost for lack of understanding, but at least he was entertaining.
I was excited to see the Rocket Man. Rocket, a giant version of the Pillsbury Doughboy, was a departed savant who knew every name of every person who had ever lived and died on Earth. And he was a great resource. I could give him a name, and he could tell me where that person stood in the cosmic scheme of things. Alive. Dead. Not dead yet but well on his way. But trying to get any other information out of Rocket was like pulling teeth with tweezers.
The abandoned asylum where Rocket lived was owned by the Bandits, a motorcycle club whose leaders were now wanted and on the run for bank robbery. One of those leaders, a scruffy rascal who went by the name of Donovan, held a special place in my heart. Actually, they all did, but Donovan and I had shared something special. Thankfully, not herpes. Our relationship had never gone that far, but he was such a gentleman. I realized how much I missed him when I drove past their house next to the asylum. Well, I would have driven past their house if it had still been there.