Melancholy Baby

“A resourceful friend?” Corsetti said.

“Oh, my, yes,” I said.

Corsetti looked at Sarah.

“You know what I’m bettin’, kid?” Corsetti said. “I’m bettin’ the resourceful friend is not actually a member of an officially designated police organization.”

He grinned at me. “Am I right or wrong?” he said.

“You have good instincts, Eugene.”

He pointed a finger at Sarah with the thumb cocked, and winked at her and let the thumb drop as if to shoot.

“Good instincts,” he said.

At five o’clock, Sarah and I and Corsetti and his good instincts were all on the West Side, in the waiting room outside Lolly Drake’s office, waiting for her to finish taping. Our arrival caused a flurry of lawyers, managers, flaks, and security people. The security guys in blue blazers and light gray slacks stood stolidly against the walls of the waiting room and looked fearsome. Corsetti, his badge clipped to his lapel, apparently didn’t notice. Sarah was still carrying the manila envelope. She sat between me and Corsetti. I could hear her breathing. I could hear Corsetti, too. He was humming softly to himself, something that sounded like “I’ll Remember April.” At 5:20, a white-haired man with big horn-rims and a great tan opened the office door and stepped out between the security guards on either side of the door.

“Wow,” Corsetti said. “Lewis Bender.”

The white-haired man stared at Corsetti.

“And you are?”

“Detective Second-Grade Eugene Corsetti.”

“Have we met?”

“Here and there,” Corsetti said, “both of us being, so to speak, in the criminal-law business.”

“I represent Miss Drake,” Bender said.

Corsetti was having the time of his life. He was bouncing on his toes. I could tell he was hoping one of the security people would give him some grief.

“This is Sunny Randall,” he said to Bender. “And this is Miss Drake’s daughter, Sarah.”

Bender nodded his head gravely. It was almost a bow. The nod acknowledged that he’d heard Corsetti, but he had no opinion.

“Sarah’s got a letter and some pictures she wants to show her mother.”

Bender smiled slightly. “Wait here, please,” he said. “I’ll speak with Miss Drake.”

We all stood silently, Corsetti looking at the security guards, Sarah holding the manila envelope against her chest, her shoulder touching mine. She was very pale. Bender was gone probably five minutes. It was a long silence.

“Miss Drake will see Sarah alone,” Bender said.

Everything about Bender was pleasant and knowing and firm.

“No,” Sarah said. “I won’t go in without Sunny.”

“Are you a police officer, Miss Randall?”

“I am a private detective,” I said. “Employed by Sarah.”

Bender nodded pleasantly. “Excuse me,” he said, and went back into the royal chambers.

Another silence. Corsetti was tapping his fingers on his thighs in some sort of rhythm that only he could hear. He looked at Sarah and winked. More silence. Bender emerged.

“All right,” he said. “Sarah and Miss Randall.”

“How do I feel?” Corsetti said.

“I don’t believe it’s personal, Detective,” Bender said.

He stood aside and we went in. He came in behind us and closed the door. Lolly Drake was sitting behind a large conference table. She didn’t look at us when we came in.

“Lewis,” she said. “I’d like you to step out as well.”

“I wouldn’t advise that, Lolly.”

“Well, I don’t work for you. You work for me. Step outside, please.”

Bender did his big neutral nod and went out.

Lolly said, without exactly looking at us, “What have you to show me?”

Sarah looked at me. I nodded. Sarah took the letter and the four pictures out of the manila envelope, and placed the letter and the four pictures in front of Lolly. First, Lolly looked at the pictures. She looked carefully at each one for a moment, as if checking to see how she looked. She studied the one of her and George a little longer, and then, good heavens, she blushed. She put on a pair of silver half-rimmed reading glasses and read the letter. She kept looking at the letter for a while, long after she must have finished it.

Still looking at it, she said, “What do you want?”

I waited. Sarah seemed to be having trouble getting her breath. Lolly looked up at me suddenly. She was getting it back together, the full-bore Lolly Drake charisma.

“What do you want?” she said to me.

“It’s what Sarah wants,” I said.

Lolly kept her eyes on me.

“Well, what is it?”

“Perhaps if you looked at her,” I said.

Lolly hesitated and then, for the first time, looked at Sarah.

“Are you my mother?” Sarah said.

“Just because of this letter?” Lolly said.

“Pictures are suggestive. The guy in the second picture wrote the letter,” I said.

“All these pictures show is that I was young and stupid.” She looked at me again. “About your age, I’d say.”

“Older,” I said, “judging from the pictures.”

Lolly ignored it.

“So, what will it take to make this all go away,” she said. “I have great resources.”

“We’d like you to provide a DNA sample.”

“Don’t be silly. How much money do you want?”

“I want to know if you’re my mother,” Sarah said.

“So you can walk around saying your name is Sarah Drake?” Lolly said.