Evangeline waited for the prompt to leave her message. “Dorisanne, it’s your sister. Again. Why aren’t you returning my calls?” She waited as if she thought there might be a response, then continued. “Well, look, I’m calling because I was cleaning out some of our old stuff and I found that Zuni bracelet you used to wear all the time. The turquoise-and-silver one, the one with the old needlepoint stones. I polished it up and it looks real nice. Anyway, I thought you might like to have it. So let me know if you want me to send it to you.” She paused and was about to add something else, something like she was praying for her or missed her or hoped she was okay, but the beep sounded and she was disconnected. She returned the receiver back to the cradle.
“She still not answering?” The Captain was sitting across the room at his desk, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper.
Evangeline shook her head. “I’ve been leaving messages for three days.” She got up from where she sat behind the narrow, fold-up table that served as her desk, walked over to the coffeepot, and started to pour herself a cup. But there was no coffee left. She turned to her father, holding the empty carafe in the air as witness. “How many cups have you had this morning?”
“I don’t know the answer to that.” He turned the page. “How many cups does that thing make?”
“Probably more than you should drink,” she answered. She reached down and petted Daisy, the cat she’d adopted the last time she stayed in Madrid. The cat yawned and raised its head, purring as Eve scratched underneath her outstretched chin. She glanced back at the Captain, and he was watching her.
“Look in the checkbook,” he said, seeming to know what she was thinking. “I sent her some money after I talked to her last. It should be in there. That will tell you what day it was.”
His suggestion was a welcome surprise. She gave Daisy one final pet and walked back over to her table-desk. She reached into the box on top and retrieved the checkbook from under some files. She flipped through the transaction records. Eve knew practically all of the deposits and withdrawals because in addition to taking care of her father, she was also the temporary bookkeeper and administrative manager for the Divine Private Detective Agency, the Captain’s business.
“I knew that boy was trouble. I tried to tell your sister, but she was so convinced he was changed. Yeah, five thousand dollars changed . . .”
Eve blew out a long breath; she hated to hear him start in on her sister. She stopped listening to him and found the entry. He had sent her two hundred dollars almost six weeks ago.
Seeing the date, Evangeline vaguely recalled her dad telling her a little bit about the conversation. Dorisanne was late on the rent and said her hours were docked at the bar where she was a waitress. She had missed a few days because she’d sprained her ankle. At least that’s what she told him when she called in May. When she was a child, Dorisanne was always falling and getting hurt, but Evangeline thought she had moved out of that accident-prone stage. Once Dorisanne had become a dancer as a young teenager, she wasn’t as careless or awkward.
“Did she say how she injured herself?”
“What?” He wasn’t paying attention; he had moved from the front page on to the sports section.
“Dorisanne,” Evangeline answered. “Did she say how she sprained her ankle?” She was still looking through the entries in the checkbook ledger. She couldn’t help herself—she was adding and subtracting, checking the numbers as she flipped through the pages.
“Fell down the stairs at the apartment, she said,” he replied.
“I thought she lived in a downstairs unit,” Eve noted.
“Then maybe she lied about that too.”
“What do you mean, ‘lied about that too’?”
Captain Jackson folded the paper and placed it on the desk in front of him. He studied his daughter. “Your sister isn’t exactly known for her honesty.”
Evangeline was surprised. “What do you mean by that?” Dorisanne had her flaws, but lying had never been one of them. She had always been one of the most truthful people Evangeline knew.
Her father shrugged. “I checked on some things,” he answered.
“What kind of things?”
“On Robbie, his job, their bank accounts, things like that.”
Evangeline shook her head. “I should have known you’d be playing private detective with your daughter.”
“A man has to look out for his own interests.”
“She’s a human being, not an interest,” Evangeline replied.
“Whatever. Let’s just say she’s not been as forthcoming about how things really are as you think.”
Evangeline closed the checkbook. She tallied up the days again and confirmed that it had been more than a month since she had heard from her sister. They usually spoke every other week, and the length of time since their last communication bothered Eve. She was just about to comment about the month without contact and her father’s recent detective activities in Las Vegas when the front door opened, the small chime sounding as a tall, gray-haired stranger entered.