“Which department?”
“Housewares. You satisfied now?”
Runyon withdrew his foot.
Predictably Burke said, “Fuck you, man!” and slammed the door, fast.
Santa Rosa was a small country town, the Sonoma County seat, that had grown up too fast into a sprawling city with a population of a quarter of a million. Its “historic” downtown had been designed around a courthouse square; the county offices had been relocated elsewhere long ago and what had probably once been a quiet town center was now traffic-clogged, noisy, and spotted with indicators of encroaching urban blight. Between the square and the freeway that bisected the city, an enclosed shopping mall sprawled over two or three blocks. An attendant in the service station where Runyon stopped for gas told him that was where Macy’s was located.
The usual Saturday crowds roamed the store, but most of the shoppers seemed to be in the clothing departments. There were only two browsers in housewares on the third floor, and nobody at the sales counter except a woman clerk who turned out to be Arlene Burke. Large sandy-haired woman, overweight but with a big-boned frame that carried the extra pounds gracefully enough. Tired eyes, tired face, but the weariness wasn’t the kind caused by overwork or lack of sleep; it had its roots in dead dreams and shattered expectations and an out-of-work, out-of-love drunk who thought of her as a cow.
Runyon’s preliminary questions put her on edge. “Sean’s not in any trouble, is he?”
“Do you think he might be?”
“No, no. It’s just I haven’t heard from him in a while… Why are you looking for my brother?”
He gave her the same story he’d used on the SunGold driver. “How long since you had contact with him?”
“More than two months now.”
“From the time he moved out of your apartment?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“Back to San Francisco. He got a new apartment and a new job there.”
“Where in San Francisco?”
“He didn’t tell me. Sometimes Sean can be… well, private.”
“Did he say what kind of job?”
“No. He said he’d give me all the details later, but he… not a word since he left.”
“Can you think of any reason for that?”
“No, unless things didn’t work out down there and he decided to move away again. He’s always had terrible luck with jobs and his personal life… it turned him into a wanderer. This time, though.. he’s changed so much, all for the better, and he really does seem ready to settle down.”
“In San Francisco?”
“I hope so. I had the idea he’d met someone there.”
“A woman, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask him if he had?”
“I did,” she said, “but he just smiled and said he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.” Pause. “It couldn’t be the woman you’re looking for, could it?”
Runyon said, “Maybe. Does the name Erin Dumont mean anything to you?”
“Erin Dumont… no. Is that her name?”
“You’re sure he never mentioned her?”
“Positive. Sean’s never talked about any woman with me.”
“When did you get the idea he’d met someone?”
“Not long before he moved out. He was so happy-a new man, so totally different from the Sean I grew up with. A lot more… confident is the word, I guess. I could see it as soon as he came here from Sacramento.”
“When was that?”
“A year ago this past February.”
“How long was he in Sacramento?”
“Not long. Nine or ten months.”
“So he moved up there right after he quit his job with SunGold Bakery.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know why he quit SunGold, left San Francisco?”
“Not really. A wanderer, like I said.”
“Where did he work in Sacramento?”
“I don’t know. Some sort of driving job.”
“Did he live with you the entire time he was in Santa Rosa?”
“Lord, no,” she said. “My husband would never have stood for that, he made enough of a fuss having Sean around for a month. No, Sean had his own apartment over by the fairgrounds until the lease ran out. He tried to arrange to stay on for one more month, until he could move into his new place in the city, but the landlord wouldn’t agree to it. So I talked Gene, that’s my husband, into letting him stay with us.”
“What was his job here?”
“Avondale Electric. They manufacture solenoid valves-he worked in their warehouse and made deliveries.”
“Avondale is located where?”
“On Petaluma Hill Road, do you know where that is?”
“Yes. Did Sean have any friends in Santa Rosa, somebody from work he hung around with?”
“Not that I know about. He doesn’t make friends easily-he’s always been shy, doesn’t relate well to other people. Women especially.”
“So he didn’t date much.”
“Not at all when we were kids. He seemed almost afraid of girls after that time he was expelled from high school. If he did finally meet someone, I couldn’t be happier for him.”
“Why was he expelled?”
“For fighting. It wasn’t his fault, he’d worked up enough nerve to talk to a girl he liked and the little bitch laughed at him and some of the boys overheard and started taunting him. Sean is easygoing but when he’s pushed too far… well, he has a temper.”
“Violent temper?”
“Just a temper. I have one, too, when I’m picked on.” Her mouth made a lemony pucker. “The Ostracized Ostrows.”
“Pardon?”
“The Ostracized Ostrows. That’s what we called ourselves. Neither of us was popular growing up, Sean because he was so heavy and me because…” She broke off, nibbled flecks of dark red off her lower lip-embarrassed now. “I shouldn’t be talking like this, to a stranger. And I really should get out on the floor and do some rearranging and restocking. If the supervisor comes by and catches me wasting time.. ”
“Just a couple more questions. Does your brother still drive a brown, eighty-eight Ford Taurus, license number 2UGK697?”
“Still does. It’s old but he keeps it in good condition.”
“Do you have a photograph of him I could borrow?”
“A photograph? Well, not with me. And not a recent one.”
“Even an old one might help.”
“Well… I could look when I get home. But that won’t be until late-I’m on overtime tonight.”
“I’d appreciate it. My cell phone number’s on the card I gave you. If you have a photo, I could come by tomorrow and pick it up.”
“All the way from San Francisco again? On Sunday?”
“I’m on overtime myself this weekend.”
“All right,” she said. “If you’ll do me a favor when you find Sean.”
“If I can.”
“Ask him to call me? And let me know yourself if everything’s all right with him? I really am starting to worry.” She sighed heavily, and the lines of weary resignation in her face seemed deeper as she said, “Poor Sean, nothing ever seems to work out for him. I had so much hope this time… so much hope for one of us…”
Avondale Electric was open on Saturday. Runyon talked to a woman in the office and a man in the warehouse; both had good things to say about Sean Ostrow’s job performance, but nothing at all to tell him about Ostrow’s present whereabouts or the new job in the city. If he’d used Avondale as a reference, his new employer hadn’t seen fit to follow up.
The residential section where Ostrow had lived in Santa Rosa, between the county fairgrounds and Luther Burbank Park, was close by. Runyon drove over there, even though he knew it would be wasted effort. And it was. He spent an hour at the apartment building and in the neighborhood looking for somebody who’d known Ostrow, and couldn’t even find one person who remembered him.
Half the day still lay ahead of him. He drove around Santa Rosa for a time, then took Highway 101 to the small towns that lay to the north. Windsor was a newish collection of tract houses and shopping malls, Healdsburg an old tourist-laden wine-country town built around a square, Geyserville a wine-country village without the tourists or the square. He didn’t stay long in any of them, just enough time to mark and memorize the territory. From Geyserville he went west through a long valley filled with vineyards, small wineries, and droves of early summer tourists, then up around Lake Sonoma, then south through a different part of Dry Creek Valley and back to Santa Rosa.