"Cars? I don't even--"
"And then it came down to money. But that's life, isn't it? He'd promise a thousand and end up giving them a couple of hundred."
"What are you talking about?" Rune asked.
Another examination. The woman got as far as Rune's striped stockings and clunky red shoes before her face revealed her dismay. She shook her head. "You couldn't ... forgive me, but you couldn't've charged all that much. What was your price? For the night?"
"You think I'm a hooker?"
"My father called them girlfriends. He actually brought one to Thanksgiving dinner once. At my house! In Westchester. Lynda with a y. You can imagine that scene. With my husband and children?"
"I don't even know your father."
The woman frowned, wondering if Rune might be telling the truth. "Maybe there's some misunderstanding here."
"I'll say there is."
"You're not ..."
"No," Rune said. "I'm not."
A faint laugh. "I'm sorry ..." The woman extended her hand. "My name's Emily Richter."
"I'm Rune." She reluctantly shook it.
"First name?"
"And last."
"Actress?"
"Sometimes."
"So, Rune, you really don't know my father?"
"No."
"And you're not here for any money?"
Not exactly, she thought. She shook her head.
Emily continued. "What do you want to see me about?"
"Do you know where he is?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out. He just vanished."
"I know he did."
Emily examined Rune's face carefully. The woman had probing eyes and Rune looked away. Emily said, "And I have a feeling you know why."
"Maybe."
"Which is?"
"I think he witnessed a murder."
"That man who was killed in the building?" Emily asked. "I heard about that. It was downstairs, wasn't it?"