“So tell me about her,” Katz said.  “Your sister.”

Charles sighed.  He wasn’t in the mood to talk and wished Katz didn’t feel compelled to fill every moment with conversation.  He kept his eyes on the apartment that had purportedly belonged to Liz Bahti but looked more like a squat.  The place was just barely visible at the end of the U-shaped courtyard, and they were parked illegally so they could see the door.  Traffic sped by, oblivious, and the sun was getting hot on Charles’ arm in spite of the air conditioning.  They had been waiting for forty minutes and it would have been excruciating enough without Katz’ constant questions and chatter. 

“I know she’s your kid sister.  She’s what, ten years younger?”

“Nine,” he said. 

“Any other sibs?”

“Just the two of us.”  Charles tried to force himself to be patient.  Nikki wasn’t going to walk out of that apartment—they had already gone up and knocked and found the door open,  nobody at home—and it wasn’t likely she’d show up there, either.  The link to Liz Bahti was tenuous at best, he reminded himself.  He’d never met the woman and had only second-hand confirmation that she and Nikki were even acquainted.

“Pretty big spread.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ten years is a long time to go between kids.  Whoa, check out the fairy.”  Katz pointed.  Charles looked, frowning, at the person he had indicated, who was crossing the street half a block up and not headed in the direction of Liz Bahti’s apartment at all.  She wore a colorful, flowery skirt and her hair was white-blond and fell in a braid halfway down her back.  She moved gracefully, looking left and right to avoid the traffic.

“That’s a woman,” Charles said, not sure how Katz could have mistaken her for a man in drag.

“‘Course it is.  And she’s a fairy.  You know, fey.”  At Charles’ uncomprehending look, he shook his head.  “You can tell by the way they move.  They don’t come into cities much; I wonder what she’s up to?”  Katz touched the cloth bag he wore on a cord around his neck unconsciously, considering.  He noticed Charles’ complete lack of interest, too.  “Aw, never mind.  Did you and your sis get along okay?”

“Of course.  She was my little sister.  She used to follow us everywhere, because there weren’t many other kids in the neighborhood her age.  She’d hang around while we played baseball or built forts or whatever.  You might say she was like the mascot for our gang, such as it was.”

“From the pictures you showed me, she looks like a tiny slip of a thing,” Katz said.  The question was unvoiced—at six-five, the barrel-chested lawyer posed an interesting contrast to the slender, wraithlike girl in the photo.  They shared the same black hair and dark blue eyes, but that was about it.

“I was the big one.  Took after my great-grandfather, according to Mom.  The rest of the family was built like Nikki.  Of course, she was only fourteen the last time I saw her, so she might have grown.”  He sighed again.  He had been focused on the door to the apartment until it blurred, and forced himself to look away.

“And she’d be, what, nineteen now?”

Charles nodded.  “Almost twenty.  God.”

“That’s a long time.  No use in asking what she was into, or what she liked.  Kids that age, all of that stuff changes.  You never did tell me how she managed to disappear.  Reports I got said she ran away from a foster home?”

They had had this discussion before, and Charles didn’t want to discuss the frustrating snafu of Nikki’s disappearance.  He studied the intersection ahead of them.  “It’s not important.”

“You never know what’s important.”

“Katz…” he said, his voice full of warning, but the private detective was already distracted by something else, and lunged forward in the seat.

“Someone just went into the apartment,” he said.  “Two guys.”  Charles started to open the door, and Katz put a hand on his shoulder.  “Wait.  What the hell are you doing?”

“Going to talk to them.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Why not?”  Charles spoke with the confidence of a man unused to being physically intimidated.  He hadn’t been in an actual fight in years; his size tended to deter them. 

“Bad feeling,” Katz said.  “I’ve been doing this a long time, just trust me.”

He hesitated, then closed the door.  “Sorry.  I’m feeling somewhat impatient about things.”

“Patience is a virtue, Mr. Saxen,” the private eye said sagely, sitting back in the seat and fingering his charm bag again.  “Let’s just wait, and watch.”

The two men who’d gone into the apartment were soon back out again–no surprise, given the condition of the place.  It certainly wasn’t someplace one would hang around in to wait for someone.  Charles got his first look at them.  Both were dressed in black and shades of gray, despite the warm sunny day.  The taller of the two was even wearing a long duster, which had to be an affectation.  The man had to be roasting.  Long, flowing black hair and oversized sunglasses conspired to hide his face from view.  The shorter of the two looked to be in his early thirties, with a poorly trimmed, spiky haircut and a doughy face that didn’t match his slender build.  He walked half a step behind his taller companion, talking rapidly from the look of it.

“Know anything about them?” Charles asked Katz.

The detective shook his head, not taking his eyes from the two men.  “After we’ve followed them for a while, I will.”

“We’re not waiting for–?”

“No,” Katz said, interrupting.  “We ain’t.  I get the feeling she’s not coming back.”