“They have bags at Walgreen’s, you know.”

“Those plastic bags clog the landfills and choke the environment.”

Or something.

“Jesus, a politically-correct Indy. God save us.”

“Smartass,” I said on a smile.

“What did you wanna talk about?”

Big breath.

“How would I go about finding a missing person?”

Hank became all business, I couldn’t see him but I heard it, for sure.

“Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.” Well, Hank did know Rosie but only to buy coffee from when he came to Fortnum’s.

“How long have they been missing?”

I tried to calculate it. “About ten hours.”

“Sorry, Indy. Not missing yet.”

“What if they actually are?”

“Who is it?” he repeated.

“An employee of mine, he’s a steady guy.” That was a lie, Rosie was anything but steady. But Rosie never missed a chance to make coffee. He worked seven days a week and never complained. “He didn’t show up for work today, his name is Ambrose Coltrane.”

Best not use his alias, just in case Lee called in a favor.

“The same Ambrose Coltrane that Lee’s lookin’ for?”

Say what?

“Lee only knows him as Rosie!”

Hesitation.

“Lee has ways.”

Grr.

Everybody was always saying this. Lee had ways of getting into girls’ panties. Lee had ways of getting parts for his car when he didn’t have a job. Lee had ways of finding choice parking spots wherever he went. Lee had ways of getting out of being grounded on average one hour after the grounding (when Ally and I would usually have to do the whole week or month or whatever our transgression had bought).

Hank didn’t read my frustration.

“Starting with his PI databases. He can tap into a lot of things. Lee called in a couple hours ago. Asked me to let him know if Coltrane surfaces. He doin’ this favor for you?”

Pause for answer.

I kept my mouth shut.

“What’s goin’ on?” Hank was losing his good-natured, business-like voice and was lapsing into his stern-older-brother voice. “Why are you and Lee looking for the same guy?”

Rule Number One in the India Savage Life Code: When in doubt or possible trouble, lie.

“Don’t know. Listen, Hank, can you call me first if you hear anything about Rosie? And then forget about it for about an hour or two or twenty before calling Lee?”

“Not if you don’t tell me what this is about.”

Like brother, like brother. Stubborn to the last.

“Forget it. See you Saturday at Dad’s barbeque.”

“You comin’ with Lee?’

“No, I’m not coming with Lee. I’m pretty sure we’ll be broken up by then. Later.”

I hung up and opened the phone book on my cell. I scrolled down to Lee, took a big breath and punched the button that would call Lee, a button I’d never punched before in my life.

He answered after one ring. “Yeah?”

“Lee? It’s Indy.”

A customer walked up and asked for a double espresso and I gave him a one minute finger and Jane started banging the portafilter against the sink to loosen the last pot of grounds.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Fortnum’s.”

“I thought I told you to stay at the condo.”

As if I ever did what I was told.

“I have a business and I’m down two employees. I had to come to work.”

“Less than twenty-four hours ago, people were shootin’ at you.”

Hmm, he sounded pissed off.

“Jane can’t handle the store in the morning all alone, she’ll go meltdown.”

Why was I explaining myself to him?

“Listen, you have to stop Kitty Sue, she’s telling everyone we’re together.”

“We are together.”

“We’re not together.”

“Who has she told?”

“Dad, Marianne Meyer, Hank, God knows who else. This is getting out of hand. It has to stop.”

“Mom didn’t tell Hank, I told Hank.”

“Why would you tell Hank?” This was said in a near shout and the customer took a step back.

Lee was silent for a second, thinking thoughts I could not fathom, then he changed the subject. “When do you close?”

“Six.”

“Don’t leave the store. I’ll come by tonight at six to pick you up.”

“Lee…”

“See you at six.”

Then he hung up.

Rat bastard.

* * * * *

Ally came back to get me with news of no Rosie at Rosie’s house.

I asked if there was any Lee at Rosie’s house and that was a negatory too.

We took off to go see Rosie’s friend, emergency contact numero uno. He had a house in the Highlands area. Great old houses and bungalows, though Rosie’s friend didn’t live in one that had been renovated. For that matter, he didn’t live in a block that had a single house that had been renovated. Or in a block that had a single house with more than a dozen blades of genuine grass growing in their yards or decent curtains in their windows. It was semi-wasteland.

We knocked to no answer.

We sat in my car and called the house number on my cell phone, no answer.

We scanned the neighborhood and Ally pointed to the end of the block.

We got out of the car and walked to the corner Stop & Stab which had surprisingly not been crushed by the overabundance of Denver’s convenience stores. A guy of Arab descent stood behind the counter.

We walked up to him and he smiled.

“You want gum?” he asked.

“No, we’re…” I started to say.

“Cigarettes? They’re bad for you but I have to sell them or I’ll go bust. Everyone in this neighborhood smokes cigarettes.”

I shook my head and then wondered briefly why Lee smelled like tobacco, I hadn’t seen him smoke since he enlisted.

I noticed Ally staring at me like, “Hello?” and I shook out of my Lee Reverie.

“You know Rosie Coltrane?”

“You’re not buying goods?” the counter man asked, looking both disappointed and defeated.

I couldn’t help myself, he immediately made me sad.

“Yes, mints,” I grabbed a pack of mints and put it on the counter.

He stared at the mints.

I stared at the mints.

Ally stared at the mints.

The mints seemed lonely and the purchase of the mints was not going to do anything to help feed this man’s family.