The Father Hunt

"No. I haven't lost him… because I never had him." She said it fast, as if someone was trying to stop her. "I decided I had to tell somebody-that was a month ago- and then I got this job with Miss Rowan and I found out that she knows you, and I met you, and of course I know about you and Nero Wolfe. But I don't want Nero Wolfe to do it, I want you to."

There were no dimples, and the quick brown eyes were fastened on me.

"That won't work," I told her. "I'm on full time with Mr. Wolfe, twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week when they're needed, and I don't take jobs on my own. But I have a loose hour"-I looked at my watch- "and twenty minutes, and if you want a suggestion I might possibly have one. No charge."

"But I need more than a suggestion."

"You're not in a position to judge. You're too involved."

"I'm involved all right." The eyes stayed at me. "I

couldn't tell this to anybody but you. Not anybody. When I met you last week, the first time, I felt it then, I knew it, that you were the one man in the world that I could trust to do it. I never had that feeling about a man before-or woman either."

"That's just dandy," I said, "but save the soap. Did you say you never had your father?"

Her eyes darted away as the waitress came with the drinks and sandwiches. When we had been served and were alone again she tried to smile. "That wasn't just figurative." She kept her voice low and I needed my good ears. "I meant that literally. I never had a father. I don't know who he was. Is. I don't know what my name is, what it should be. Nobody knows about it-nobody. Now you know. I don't think Denovo was my mother's real name. I don't think she was ever married. Do you know what Denovo means? Two Latin words, de novo?" "Something about new. A nova is a new star." "It means 'anew.' 'Afresh.' She started anew, afresh, she started over, and she took the name Denovo. I wish I knew for sure."

"Have you asked her?"

"No. I wanted to, I was going to, and now I can't. She's dead."

"When did she die?"

"In May. Just two weeks before I graduated. By a car. A hit-and-run driver." "Did they get him?"

"No. They haven't found him. They are still looking; they say they are."

"What about relatives? A sister, a brother…" "There aren't any."

"There must be. Everyone has relatives." "No. None. Of course there might be some under her real name."

"Have you got any? Cousins, uncles, aunts…" "No."