Fever Dream

referred to as Hector.

'There's a family used to live around here. Name of Esterhazy. I'm trying to track them down.'

'What's your name, mister?' asked a fisherman called Ned. He was about five feet tall, with a wind-and sun- wizened face and forearms thick as telephone poles.

'Martinelli.'

'You a cop?' Ned asked, frowning.

D'Agosta shook his head. 'Private investigator. It's about a bequest.'

'Bequest?'

'Quite a lot of money. I've been hired by the trustees to locate any surviving Esterhazys. If I can't find them, I can't give them their inheritance, can I?'

The bar was silent a minute while the regulars digested this. More than one pair of eyes brightened at the talk of money.

'Mike, another round, please.' D'Agosta took a generous swig from the foamy mug. 'The trustees have also authorized a small honorarium for those who help locate any surviving family members.'

D'Agosta watched as the fishermen glanced at one another, then back at him. 'So,' he said, 'can anybody here tell me anything?'

'Aren't no Esterhazys in this town anymore,' said Ned.

'Aren't no Esterhazys in this entire part of the world anymore,' said Hector. 'There wouldn't be any--not after what happened.'

'What was that?' D'Agosta asked, trying not to show too much interest.

More glances among the fishermen. 'I don't know a whole lot,' said Hector. 'But they sure left town in a big hurry.'

'They kept a crazy aunt locked up in the attic,' said the third fisherman. 'Had to, after she began killing and eating the dogs in town. Neighbors said they could hear her up there at night, crying and banging on the door, demanding dog meat.'

'Come on, now, Gary,' said the bartender, with a laugh. 'That was just the wife screaming. She was a real harpy. You've been watching too many late-night movies.'

'What really happened,' said Ned, 'was the wife tried to poison the husband. Strychnine in his cream of wheat.'

The bartender shook his head. 'Have another beer, Ned. I heard the father lost his money in the stock market--that's why they blew town in a hurry, owed money all over.'

'A nasty business,' Hector said, draining his beer. 'Very nasty.'

'What kind of a family were they?' D'Agosta asked.

One or two of the fishermen looked longingly at the empty glasses they'd downed with frightening rapidity.

'Mike, set us up again, if you please,' D'Agosta asked the bartender.

'I heard,' said Ned as he accepted his glass, 'that the father was a real bastard. That he beat his wife with an electrical cord. That's why she poisoned him.'

The stories just seemed to get wilder and less likely; the one fact Pendergast had been able to pass on was that Helen's father had been a doctor.

'That's not what I heard,' said the bartender. 'It was the wife who was crazy. The whole family was afraid of her, tiptoed around for fear of setting her off. And the husband was away a lot. Always traveling. South America, I think.'

'Any arrests? Police investigations?' D'Agosta already knew the answer: the Esterhazy police record was clean as a whistle. There were no records anywhere of brushes with the law or police responses to domestic trouble. 'You mentioned family. There was a son and daughter, wasn't there?'

A brief silence. 'The son was kind of strange,' said Ned.

'Ned, the son was junior-class valedictorian,' said Hector.

Class valedictorian, thought D'Agosta, at least that can be checked out. 'And the daughter? What was she like?'

He was met with shrugs all around. He wondered if the high school would still have the records. 'Anybody know where they might be now?'

Glances were exchanged. 'I heard the son was down south somewhere,' said Mike the bartender. 'No idea what happened to the daughter.'

'Esterhazy isn't a common name,' offered Hector. 'Ever think of trying the Internet?'

D'Agosta looked around at a sea of blank faces. He couldn't think of any other questions that wouldn't lead to another chorus of conflicting rumors and unhelpful advice. He also realized--with dismay--that he was slightly drunk.

He stood, holding the bar to steady himself. 'What do I owe you?' he asked Mike.

'Thirty-two fifty,' came the reply.

D'Agosta fished two twenties from his wallet and placed them on the bar. 'Thank you all for your help,' he said. 'Have a good evening.'