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“You heard about Soder's bar.”
“I just came from there,” I said. “It looked bad. Lucky no one was in the building.”
“Yeah, except so far we haven't been able to locate Soder. His girlfriend said he never came home.”
“Do you think he could have been in the bar when the fire broke out?”
“The guys are in there checking. They had to wait for the building to cool. No sign of him so far. I thought you'd want to know.” Morelli had his hand on the door handle. “I'll let you know if we find him.”
“Wait a minute. I have a theoretical question. Suppose you were watching television with me. And we were alone in my apartment. And I had a couple glasses of wine, and I sort of passed out. Would you try to make love to me, anyway? Would you do a little exploring while I was asleep?”
“What are we watching? Is it the play-offs?”
“You can leave now,” I said.
Morelli grinned and got out of the car.
I dialed Dotty's number on my cell phone. I was anxious to tell her the news about the bar and about Soder going missing. The phone rang a bunch of times and the machine picked it up. I left a message for a callback and tried her work number. I got her voice mail at work. Dotty was on vacation, scheduled to return in two weeks.
The voice mail message sent a strange emotion curling through my stomach. I searched for a name for the emotion. Unease was the closest I could come.
In less than an hour, I was parked in front of Dotty's house. No sign of Jeanne Ellen. And no sign of life in Dotty's house. No car in the driveway. No doors or windows opened. Nothing wrong with that, I told myself. The kids would be in school and day care at this time of day. And Dotty was probably out shopping.
I walked to the door and rang the bell. No one answered. I looked in the front window. The house looked at rest. No lights on. No television blaring. No kids running around. The bad feeling crept into my stomach again. Something was wrong. I walked around and looked in the back window. The kitchen was tidy. No signs of breakfast. No bowls in the sink. No cereal boxes left out. I tried the doorknob. Locked. I knocked on the door. No response. That's when it hit me. No dog. The dog should be running around, barking at the door. It was a one-story ranch. I circled the house and looked in every window. No dog.
Okay, so she's walking the dog. Or maybe she took the dog to the vet. I tried Dotty's two closest neighbors. Neither knew what had happened to Dotty and the dog. Both had noticed they were missing this morning. The consensus was that Dotty and her family vacated the house sometime during the night.
No Dotty. No dog. No Jeanne Ellen. I had other names for the thing in my stomach now. Panic. Fear. With a touch of nausea from the hangover.
I went back to my car and sat in front of the house for a while, taking it all in. At some point I looked down at my watch and realized an hour had passed. I suppose I was hoping Dotty would return. And I suppose I knew it wasn't going to happen.
When I was nine years old I persuaded my mom to let me get a parakeet. On the way home from the pet store the door to the cage came open somehow, and the bird flew away. That's what this felt like. It felt like I left the door open.
I put the car in gear and drove back to the Burg. I went straight to Dotty's parents' house. Mrs. Palowski answered my knock, and Dotty's dog came running from the kitchen, yapping the whole way.
I dredged up my biggest and best phony smile for Mrs. Palowski. “Hi,” I said, “I'm looking for Dotty.”
“You just missed her,” Mrs. Palowski said. “She dropped Scotty off early this morning. We're baby-sitting him while Dotty and the children are on vacation.”
“I really need to talk to her,” I said. “Do you have a phone number where she can be reached?”
“I don't. She said she was going camping with a friend. A cabin in the woods somewhere. She said she'd be in touch, though. I could give her a message.”
I gave Mrs. Palowski my card. “Tell Dotty I have very important information for her. And ask her to call me.”
“Dotty isn't in any kind of trouble, is she?” Mrs. Palowski asked.
“No. This is information about one of Dotty's friends.”
“It's Evelyn, isn't it? I heard Evelyn and Annie were missing. That's such a shame. Evelyn and Dotty used to be such good friends.”
“Do they still get together?”
“Not for years, now. Evelyn kept to herself after she married. I think Steven made it difficult for her to have friends.”
I thanked Mrs. Palowski for her time and returned to my car. I reread the report on Evelyn. No mention of a secret cabin in the woods.
My phone chirped, and I wasn't sure what I hoped for . . . a date was high on the list. Next might be news about Soder or a friendly call from Evelyn.
