“Oh.” Salomon hesitated. “Do you know her address?”
“Eh? Somewhere at the north end of town. I suppose my accountant has it. Wait a moment! You took her home once, I remember clearly.”
“So I did. It was indeed somewhere in the north end. But those rabbit warrens all look alike. My guards may know. Hold it—your mobile guards escorted her for several months, right up to the time you went in for surgery. Have you asked them?”
“Hell, Jake, I haven’t been allowed to see anyone. I don’t even know that they are still working for me.”
“I’m fairly sure they still were when I left for Europe.
But, Johann, while we can ask them, I doubt if it will do any good.”
“Why not?”
“Because I did see Eunice just before your operation. She was interested—she was fond of you, Johann, much more so than you deserved—”
“Conceded! Make it march.”
“Well, she didn’t mention specific plans but I don’t think she intended to stay in secretarial work. Hell, man, none of us expected that you would ever need a secretary again. I would happily have hired her myself; she is a good secretary. But—”
“I’m sure you would, you old goat. But surely you let her know that she could stay on my payroll forever? Well, until I died, at least.”
“She knew that. But she is a proud girl, Johann. Not a parasite. I’ll make an effort to find her. However, if I don’t, there are many good secretaries. I’ll find one for you. That’s a promise.”
“Look, I don’t want another secretary; I want Eunice Branca.”
“I meant—“
“I know what you meant. You’d find me some old witch who does perfect work but is no fun to look at or have around…while you’ve probably got Eunice stashed away in your office.”
Salomon said slowly, “Johann, I swear by all that’s holy that I do not have her in my office nor anywhere.”
“Then she did turn you down. Jake, I trust you with my life and all my worldly goods. But I don’t trust you or any man not to steal a perfect secretary if he can.”
“Nolo contendere. I did offer her a job anytime she wanted it. She did not accept.”
“So we find her. You find her.”
Salomon sighed. “What clues can you give me? Her husband, perhaps? Isn’t he an artist?”
“I suppose you could call him that. Look, Jake, don’t hold this against Eunice—but I would call him a gigolo. But I’m old-fashioned. I had to get a report when she married him. He was clean, no reason to lose the best secretary a man ever had just because she chose to marry him. Yes, he was an artist, one who didn’t sell much; she supported him. That was her business; Branca was all right— didn’t use drugs, didn’t even drink. But he wasn’t up to her. Illiterate. Surely I know how common that is today; I’m not prejudiced, I’ve got illiterates right in this house—and only God and Accounting know how many are working for Smith Enterprises. Branca may never have attended a school in which reading is taught. But I can give you one lead—if Eunice is not working as a secretary—easy to check through Social Security—and if they aren’t on the Welfare rolls—she won’t be, he might be—then check model agencies, video, artists, photographers, et cetera. For both of them. For he was as handsome as Eunice was beautiful; the snoopshot with the security report made that plain.”
“Very well, Johann; I’ll get a skiptrace firm on it.”
“Hell, put a regiment of detectives on it!”
“But suppose they dropped out? People do.”
Johann sniffed. “Perhaps he would, I would lay any amount that she never would. But if necessary, I want every Abandoned Area in this city combed.”
“Expensive. You send a private detective into an A.A. and the premium on his life goes sky high.”
“Didn’t you tell me that I have more money than I know what to do with?”
“True. But I don’t relish hiring a man for hazardous work even if he wants the job. But we’re borrowing trouble; it may take nothing more than getting Accounting to dig out that address. Or do a back check on a Social Security number with the customary small bribe. I’ll let you know.”