sitting in the cubicles than I had before. They were making notes, phone calls, faces. Sally Porovsky looked as if she hadn’t moved. Whatever it was about her kicked in and I decided to make a call to Ann Horowitz in the hope of finding some way of dealing with a feeling I couldn’t deny but wasn’t sure I wanted.
“Mr…?”
“Fonesca,” I reminded her, disappointed that she hadn’t remembered, and annoyed that I was disappointed.
“Fonesca, yes. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. This is Beryl Tree, Adele’s mother.”
Sally Porovsky’s voice was exactly as I remembered it. Musical, a little husky. Sally rose, took Beryl’s hand and smiled, guiding her to the extra chair in her cubicle. This time I stood, a step back.
“I’m sorry to ask you this,” Sally said gently, leaning toward Beryl and lowering her voice. “But do you have some proof of your relationship to Adele?”
“Got her birth certificate in my purse, photographs, report cards from grade school, health insurance, Social Security card, whatever I could find when I came out here.”
She opened her purse and began fishing out folded pieces of paper, cards and photographs of Adele. Sally examined them, returned some and asked Beryl if she could make copies of the ones she had kept.
“Just so I get ’em back,” she said.
“I’ll do that now and give them right back. Can I get you a coffee, Coke, water?”
“No, thank you.”
“Mr. Fonesca?”
“Lew,” I said. “No, thanks.”
“Be right back.”
Sally moved across the room and disappeared to the left behind a pile of cardboard boxes.
“I like her,” said Beryl.
“Yes,” I said.
“You can tell with some people,” Beryl said. “I think she tried to help Adele.”
I agreed. Sally returned in less than three minutes carrying a manila folder, handed the original documents to Beryl, who put them in her purse, and sat down.
“Mrs. Tree,” she said. “Your daughter said her name was Prescott, Adele Prescott.”
“Prescott?”
“Her father’s name is Dwight Prescott.”
“No, it’s Dwight Handford.”
“He said it was Prescott. He had a driver’s license, Social Security number, Sarasota address,” said Sally, putting her hand on Beryl’s. “Since Adele confirmed he was her father and… Mrs. Tree, they said you were dead.”
“Adele told you I was dead?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“He made her,” Beryl said. “She was afraid of him.”
“She came to Sarasota on her own to look for him, Mrs. Tree,” said Sally. “That’s a brave thing to do for a sixteen-year-old girl.”
“She told you she was sixteen?”
“Yes.”
“She’s fourteen,” said Beryl. “Her birthday was on the fourth of last month.”
Sally sat back, sighed, closed her eyes and looked up at me. I nodded to confirm what Beryl had said so far.
“Your daughter got in trouble with the police,” Sally said. “They referred her and her father to us. The referral was mandatory, court ordered. That meant they had to work with us.”
Someone laughed, a man on a telephone not far away.
“What kind of trouble?”
“She was soliciting,” Sally said, taking Beryl’s hand again.
Beryl nodded. She knew what that meant and the information didn’t seem to surprise her. It hurt, but she wasn’t surprised.
“Where is she now?” asked Beryl.
“We don’t know,” said Sally. “We’re looking for her. Her father hasn’t been very cooperative and… we’re looking. Beryl, Adele said some things to me that… How can I put this? Did your husband ever abuse your daughter?”
“Hit her?”
The pause was long.
“Sexually,” said Sally.
This pause was even longer. I turned away.
“I…” Beryl began. “I don’t know for sure. He went to prison for
…”
“He sexually abused a young relative,” I said.
“I thought maybe when Adele was…” Beryl said. “But I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. Adele never said anything. I can’t think.”
“I understand. Are you going to be in town for a while?”
“Till Adele and I get on a train, plane or bus out of here,” she said.
“Is there anywhere I can reach you?”
Beryl looked up at me. I gave Sally my home-office number.
“Mrs. Tree’ll be staying with a friend. I think you should know that she ran into her husband two days ago. He hit her. Then he called her this morning and threatened to kill her if she didn’t stop looking for her daughter.”
“Did anyone hear the threat?” asked Sally.
“I did,” said Beryl.
“Anyone else?”
“No,” I said.
We exchanged looks that said we both knew there was nothing the law could do.
“I’ll call Mr. Fonesca if we find Adele,” Sally said, getting up and helping Beryl to her feet.
“Thank you,” said Beryl.
“I’ll meet you at the elevator,” I said to Beryl. “I’ve got to ask Ms. Porovsky something.”
Beryl nodded and. moved toward the elevator.
“The answer is yes,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Dinner, remember?”
“I remember,” I said. “Tomorrow night. Seven?”
“That’s cutting it a little tight,” she said. “I’ve got a home visit in Englewood till five. Make it seven- thirty.”
“Dress casual,” I said.
“Fonesca, this might be a mistake for both of us.”
“Might be,” I agreed.
She handed me a card. I turned it over. There was a phone number and address in ink:
“Seven-thirty, then. You like kids?”
“Huh?”
“I have two kids, a boy and girl. Thirteen and nine.”
“I like kids,” I said.
“Well, be prepared for these two. Dinner only, quick, home and friendly. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I said, looking at Beryl at the elevator. “I’m not dangerous.”
“I wouldn’t have said yes if I thought you were,” she said. “In my work, I see dangerous people all the time.”
“Since we’re on the subject, think you can give me Handford’s address?” I asked.
