Four glasses of wine didn’t always have such an adverse effect. Marta’s call roused Lucy from bed, but it didn’t ease her headache. Lucy poured herself a large glass of grapefruit juice, made coffee, and retrieved her newspaper from the outside hall. Colin hadn’t gotten top billing, but he was front page. The head he had shaved as a token of mourning for Emmy helped to give him a properly menacing criminal look.
     Lucy thought about Chris Langford and wondered if her friend would be Colin’s public defender. It would depend on caseload distribution at the PD’s office. What if Chris did get the case? Would she be obligated to tell Chris about her concern that maybe Marta knew something about Maddy, and that Colin could be involved in Maddy’s disappearance? And wouldn’t that make it impossible for Chris to defend Colin? Where would that leave him? No, it would be better if Chris were not involved.
     Does that mean that I should keep my suspicions to myself, Lucy wondered? Why not tell Chris? What is holding me back? There should be no hesitation. If the tables were turned, if it was Marta, I’d want Chris to tell me everything she knew.
     But there was something more to Maddy’s running away. Sometimes Marta didn’t show the best judgement, but even when she made bad choices, she had good reasons. Lucy resolved not to say anything to Chris for the time being.
     She spent most of the rest of the day working at her computer, developing a good case of eyestrain to match the headache that, although diminished, refused to disappear entirely.
     At first, Marta’s second phone call was a welcome break. Lucy was somewhat less thrilled by the end of the conversation.
     “Mom, I know Colin couldn’t have killed Emmy. He was set up and I don’t know how it all fits together, but Connie Crage knew Colin was into the scene because Crage’s into it, and he’s been sleeping with Kimmi.”
     “Let me get this straight. You think Connie Crage framed Colin because he’s sleeping with Kimmi?” Lucy asked.
     “No. I mean Connie Crage’s into bondage and he knows that Colin is into it, too. I don’t know what either one of them see in her, but they both met her at the leather shop. See, Mom–Kimmi is in the middle of this mess somehow. If she told Connie about Colin and that he kept an outfit at the house then Connie might have gotten his cop friends or the those boneheads to do something to Emmy. Or maybe he did it himself.”
     “I don’t know, Marta,” The whole thing seemed thin. How reliable was Kimmi? Could she be believed at all?
     Lucy did not want to believe that Colin could have killed Emmy. It meant that either Colin deliberately strangled Emmy or that she had been a willing partner. Neither scenario made any sense. Marta’s steadfast defense of Colin, her certainty that he couldn’t have done it intimated that he had an alibi, but that troubled Lucy. Why couldn’t Marta tell her where Colin was that night? Did it have anything to do with Tom Morris’s missing teens and was Marta really involved in something dangerous?
     Unfortunately, Colin’s innocence wouldn’t help Will and it wouldn’t explain who did kill Emmy. No matter how much respect she had for Tom Morris’s detective skills, Lucy was certain that he was on the wrong track. She believed that in spite of the way Emmy was found, she was not involved in sadomasochism or bondage and discipline. She was murdered. But knowing that was not enough for Emmy’s friends, and it certainly wasn’t enough for the police. Somehow, Lucy thought, we have to find out who killed Emmy and why.
     Lucy was doubtful about Connie Crage’s sadistic sexual proclivities. Still it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, and the only person that Lucy knew who might have some knowledge about the builder was her friend Chris Langford. It seemed like a longshot, but Chris might be able to verify whether or not Connie Crage was involved in the local S&M scene. Lucy wasn’t sure what it would prove even if Chris could verify it. How many hundreds of people in Portland would fall into that category? On the other hand, how many could there be who had something against Emmy? How many had threatened to kill her?
     Lucy called the Public Defender’s office. “Hi, Chris. Have you got a minute?” Lucy asked when she was transferred to Chris’s line.
     “To tell you the truth, I’m on my way to a meeting. Can I call you back or do you want to meet somewhere for a drink or something?”
     Chris sounded like she wanted to talk. Lucy said, “Let’s meet. You name the place and time.”
     “Six o’clock tonight at the Irish Setter,” Chris said.
     Something in Chris’ voice made Lucy think of dinner with Chris and Teddy and how charged the air had become with unspoken thoughts, repressed feelings. What was it Chris had said, “She’ll just run away again,” was that it? Why was Chris so sure? If she were my daughter, I’d look for her anyway, Lucy thought. How much of what was said that night was said for my benefit? Teddy’s a politician and Chris is a lawyer, both are acting jobs, essentially. What was the act that night about?

     At six, Lucy pushed open the door to the Irish Setter. It was a small cafe and bar near Water Avenue. Gentrification had not yet hit this Southeast area of warehouses and it was in a slow decline. Few of the wooden buildings were in use and most showed age and neglect. Among the peeling white paint and bare wood loading docks, the brave green awning of the Irish Setter was a swipe of lush color. Inside, the vague scent of nicotine clung to the cafe walls though smoking had been banned in Portland’s restaurants for several months. Lucy wrinkled her nose. She was a zealous ex-smoker with no desire to backslide. She seldom even had nicotine dreams anymore.
     Chris was there ahead of Lucy. She sat in a booth near the kitchen, away from windows, away from the bar in back.
     “What’s up?” Chris asked.
     “I need to glean some gossip out of you,” Lucy answered.
     “That’s straightforward. Who’s on the hotseat?”
     “Malcolm Crage.”
     Chris hesitated, “That could be a problem.”
     Lucy was surprised. It didn’t make any sense for Chris to have a conflict where this man was concerned. “Tell me what you can. I’ll be grateful.”
     “Is this about the murder of your friend? What does Connie Crage have to do with it?”
      “Probably nothing,” Lucy replied, “but Marta is absolutely certain that Colin didn’t kill Emmy. I trust my daughter’s instincts and besides she’s withholding something that I’m sure would clear him, but she can’t reveal it. One of the reasons the police are interested in Colin is something that Marta heard is also true of Crage. It doesn’t mean that either one of them killed Emmy. I just need to know if it’s true or not.”
     “I have the case. Did you know?”
     Lucy felt irritated, why had Chris waited to drop that into the conversation. “I knew he’d have a court appointed lawyer. When did you get the case?”
     “This morning.”
     A waiter dropped menus in front of them and said, “Let me know when you’re ready.”
     Lucy had trouble concentrating on the menu. She wasn’t hungry and she was still put off Chris’s subtle deception. She reminded herself not to get sidetracked. She had come to find out what Chris might know about Crage. When Chris ordered grilled tuna and salad, Lucy said she’d have the same to save time.
     Chris ran her hand through her short curly hair. “All right, what is it you want to know about Connie Crage?”
     “Only the good stuff,” Lucy grinned, hoping to put her friend at ease. “Sex. How does Connie prefer it?”
     “Right to the chase,” Chris whistled. “If you had asked me that question a month ago I wouldn’t have had a clue, but Teddy brought an interesting tale home from a meeting one night. Don’t ask me what the meeting was about–that’s none of your business.”
     “I’ll bet,” Lucy said giving her friend a sharp look.
     “Connie isn’t shy about certain things,” Chris said. “What he said, according to Teddy, was that a certain someone was into dungeon parties.”
     “What’s a dungeon party?”
     “It’s where the rubber meets the leather, S&M. A group of people into it get together at someone’s house and play out their fantasies. Right now, out there,” Chris gestured toward the windows, “there are people exercising their right to assemble by tying each other up and exploring the delights of pain.”
     “You’re well-informed. Who was Crage talking about?” It was worth a try.
     “The accused, Colin Doherty. But, look, it was just Connie’s way of bringing the subject around to sex and letting everyone know how world-wise he is. Of course, somebody asked him how he knew about Doherty. He said they had a mutual friend of the leather persuasion.”
     Maybe it was egocentric, maybe not, Lucy thought. “Who else was at this meeting?” she asked. “Did it have anything to do with the Bartlett property development?” May as well see how much Chris was willing to say.
     “Smart as a whip aren’t you? That’s it. Don’t ask me any more about it,” Chris said, holding up her hand as if to bar any further questions.
     The waiter brought their food. Lucy and Chris concentrated on their salads.
     Between the salad and sandwich, Lucy asked, “How well do you know Connie Crage?”
     “I don’t really. I’ve met him and I know things about him. He’s wealthy, self-made from what I understand. He met his wife on his tour in Vietnam. They have a daughter, I think. Anyway, Teddy thinks his wife got him into the kinky stuff,” Chris said. “Of course, according to Teddy, men would be monks if it weren’t for the enticement of women.”
     Let’s talk about Teddy later, Lucy thought and said, “Connie Crage has got a hell of a temper.”
      “Connie’s got Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Sometimes he loses it. It doesn’t mean he’s a killer, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
     “Did Teddy tell you about the city council meeting last April?” Lucy asked. Chris nodded.
     “Did Teddy tell you that Connie Crage threatened Emmy?” Lucy asked.
     “Teddy did say that Connie got a little out of hand. He didn’t give details; just that Connie was upset about the sympathy your activist group was getting from some council members. But I really don’t think he is dangerous–on an individual, one-on-one level. Of course, I’m not a psychiatrist, but he’s more a clock tower kind of guy,” Chris said.
     “Oh, and you find that comforting.”
     “Look, I don’t know where all this is going,” Chris sighed. “If you really think Connie could have killed that girl then I’m not going to hold anything back that would make a difference. I really don’t know the guy. However, if you want to get a closer look–what are you doing next Sunday?”
     Lucy said, “Depends. I’m sure I can rearrange my social calendar, if it’s worth it.”
     “You know that youth camp program Doug Bartlett runs out in Estacada? He’s having an open house for parents and the community. Connie will be there because he’s a big supporter and it’s a fundraising event. Teddy and I are going.”
     Lucy nodded thoughtfully. “Why not? How do I get there?”
     Chris turned to her briefcase on the booth beside her. “Here’s a brochure. It has a map.”
     “Is there a charge for this? You said it was a fundraiser. Or maybe I should wear my press badge.”
     “It is a fundraiser, but how much you give, if at all, is voluntary. It’s mostly public relations and publicity. You know, get all the right people there and make them feel like they’re doing something important, that it’s part of the social imperative for a ‘certain class’ of people.” Chris sounded mildly apologetic. She belonged to that certain class.
     “The price,” Lucy said, grinning, “that I’ll be paying then, is to be swimming with the sharks.” She picked up her sandwich. “As opposed to eating tuna.”
     When they were done eating, Chris asked, “How about a drink, Luce? Let’s go into the bar.”
     Lucy hesitated, “I don’t know, Chris. I kind of overdid it last night.”
     “Oh? Anyone I know?”
     “Alone, unfortunately.”
     “Ouch. Drinking alone,” Chris said. “Okay, how about if you drink water and watch me drink scotch?”
     Lucy nodded. There was more she wanted to talk about with Chris. They hadn’t even touched on the Maddy subject and how things were between Chris and Teddy.
     The bar was dark and smoky and Lucy’s eyes were stinging by the time they found a place to sit. It was noisy enough to make conversation private without making it impossible.
     Lucy assumed that Chris had something on her mind, that she wanted to talk, but now that they were seated and Chris had a scotch in hand, she seemed in no hurry to start.
     “Is something going on between you and Teddy?” Lucy asked.
     “You mean more than usual? What could possibly be wrong in the Langford/Milcheford household?” Chris pushed the ice in her drink with her index finger.
     Lucy ignored Chris’s sarcasm and plunged ahead. “Couples get torn apart sometimes when a child disappears. Sometimes you need help. I know that I don’t know how you feel, but I know how I feel about Elena and how it was when Marta hit the streets.”
     Chris stared hard at her drink, took a sip, and looked steadily into Lucy’s eyes. “You’re damned right you don’t know how I feel. Neither does Teddy. Not that he isn’t suffering. He’s trying everything he can think of to find her. But, Lucy, he doesn’t know how I feel.”
     “And he won’t unless you can tell him.”
     “Maddy was always such a pretty girl. You remember. She had lots of friends and she was playing soccer. It’s the big thing now. I went to see her play when I could, but I missed lots of games. Teddy always went. As long as one of us was there I thought we were supporting her.”
     “Chris, did you notice a change in Maddy. Anything that in retrospect seemed different?” Lucy asked. She was thinking about how Marta had gotten withdrawn and surly before she took off. What Chris said surprised her.
     “She stopped wearing pretty clothes. I got so mad.” Chris stopped and took another sip of her drink. “I rearranged my calendar and took a whole afternoon off to shop for her birthday. I found this really great dress. She said it was pretty. She said she liked it. Teddy said ‘try it on, Maddy. Let’s see what you look like in it.’ She said she’d try it on later. I never saw her in it. She started wearing clothes that were big and baggy and she wasn’t wearing makeup or taking care of her hair. We fought about it all the time.”
     “Sounds like she was depressed.”
      “She had everything she could want. How could she be depressed?” Chris finished off her drink and waved it at the bar.
      “Chris, you’re my best friend. You know I’m always available anytime you need to talk,” Lucy said.
     “I know. I guess I’d be better off without a second drink. Ready to go?” Chris asked.
     On her way home, Lucy felt like she was spinning her wheels. Connie Crage seemed no more or less suspicious and as for Chris, she had only succeeded in upsetting her friend.
     Lucy was not surprised to hear from Chris the next day. Neither of them had ever kept a distance from the other over hurt feelings or harsh words.
     “Lucy, I just called to bitch about Teddy. You got a minute or an hour?”
     “Hi, Chris, I’m fine and how are you?” Lucy had just finished breakfast. She looked at her watch, eight o’clock. Must have been an early morning fight.
     Chris ignored Lucy’s attempt at etiquette. “He’s never given a rat’s ass about my cases. He’s never even seemed to notice, but he is dead set against me handling the Doherty case.”
     “You know how Teddy is about winning. Maybe he thinks this is one you’ll lose and since it is so high profile… ”
     “Then it will stick to him? I don’t know. That is possible. It just seems deeper than that. He’s so good at dodging bullets,” Chris said.
     “Not to change the subject, but how are things going with Colin? Is he cooperating?” Lucy asked.
     “More or less. You’re not doing a piece on this are you? I’m not going to find myself quoted and suddenly in big trouble with the court and my boss am I?”
     “No, Chris, I’m just caught in the middle a little bit here. I just don’t see Colin as a murderer, yet, I can’t imagine who else, certainly not Will.”
     “This might have been more random,” Chris said. “I am having trouble getting him to open up. He won’t say where he was that night. Absolutely refuses. And there is something else he is holding back, but I don’t know what it is and it is probably relevant. Every time he looks at me, I think, I’m not getting it all. I’m nowhere near having his confidence. If this continues, I don’t know how good of a defense I can present.”
     “You don’t think he is counting on that do you? Hoping he can claim that he didn’t have competent counsel.” Lucy felt uneasy. Should she say anything to Chris now about Colin and the missing girls? I just can’t she thought. I probably should, but what about Marta? I just can’t.
     “Anything’s possible.”
     “So why do you think Teddy is so concerned about this?”
     “He says Colin has something to do with these teenage girls that have come up missing over the last few months,” Chris said.
     Is she playing with me? What does Teddy know about those girls? “I didn’t know Teddy was briefed about theories? I know he has oversight of the police, but do they brief him in that detail on the cases?” Lucy was genuinely surprised. Though Morris had told her about the possible connection, she didn’t think it was substantive enough to be going up all the way to the top boss.
     “It’s more than a theory according to Teddy. He has been seen. Apparently, Colin was the last person seen with more than one of the girls. That’s pretty strong circumstantial. Sometimes, I think…” Chris stopped.
     Lucy waited for Chris to speak again. When she did, it was in a controlled, distant voice.
     “I think that Teddy may believe that Madeline is missing, not run away.”
     “What do you think?”
     “That she’s somewhere safe. It’s not just that I have to feel it, Lucy,” Chris said. “I really think I’d know.”
     Lucy did not contradict her.
     “I’ve got to run, Lucy. Thanks for listening.”
     An image of Teddy at the Justice Center came to Lucy’s mind. The way he had looked when he saw her watching him. As if she had caught him doing something he shouldn’t. She thought back to that time when Chris was pregnant with Madeline and Lucy caught Teddy with the intern from the firm he was with at the time. It was before he was elected to the City Council. She was at Edgefield, out in Troutdale on a rare date. Dinner in the Pub, movie and beer in the theater. It was in the theater that she saw them cuddled up in the back row. They didn’t see her, but Chris was her friend and she called Teddy the next day to let him know. “Teddy,” Lucy had said, “that girl is barely out of high school. How can you treat Chris like this? She’s pregnant for God’s sake. Don’t you care about her?” Teddy had been contrite. Very contrite. He had begged her not to tell Chris. “Think what it will do to her. I promise, I won’t do it again. It was just that you know how it is. She’s so big and I just can’t…Please Lucy, please, don’t tell her.” In the end, she did not tell Chris, but not because he begged her, not for him, for Chris. What good would it do? she reasoned. It would only hurt Chris.
     After Maddy was born, Chris joked with Lucy, saying that maybe she was too mature for Teddy now. “I’m a mother. I don’t think he sees himself as the type to be with a mother. Not that he doesn’t love me or love Madeline,” Chris kissed the top of her daughter’s bald head. She stroked the soft fontanel. “Daddy loves us, oh yes he does,” She cooed to the baby. “Teddy will adjust.”
     Of course, he will adjust, Lucy thought. Chris is beautiful, and smart, and rich. What’s not to love if you’re Teddy Milcheford? He certainly would not leave his ticket. Cheat on her, but not leave her. Lucy did not believe that Teddy ever stopped taking advantage of an opportunity to seduce a young, vulnerable woman. But he was nobody’s dummy and as far as she knew, no one ever caught him at it again.

     And he must have given Chris enough to make her fool herself into believing that he was really committed. Hasn’t he done that with all of us? Running for City Council on a liberal wavelet from the first Clinton term. Throwing us bones. All earnest about the citizen’s review committee when the mayor was still controlling the police department. Standing up for funding for Parks & Recreation, when it was someone else’s bailiwick. Come to think of it, what had Teddy stood up for or against that wasn’t someone else’s department? Now that the police are under his wing suddenly citizen review is not so attractive and developers seem to be having their way with him. They were all lucky that he wasn’t able to persuade the rest of the council when Urban Vision wanted to develop a portion of Delta Park into a business complex. But Teddy always managed somehow to win them all back with a townhall meeting, or he would fire some undercover cop who got caught padding his overtime pay requests. That was easy. But he was buying the conservative vote when he refused to open instances of profiling minorities to citizen review. Driving while black was still a real issue under Teddy’s reign.
     Lucy sighed. It really wasn’t all that complicated. Teddy was a politician. You just had to know when you could use him and when you couldn’t. Still, he is married to my best friend and that makes me feel a little sick.