“I’m looking for Lucy Rowe,” said Vicki, and introduced herself. She was careful not to mention the Bryants, not to intrude on the lawyer’s province. She said she understood that the Rowes lived here, or used to. “I wonder whether you could tell me what Lucy Rowe’s address is now?”
“My goodness, I should be able to! Lucy and I went to high school together; we’re old neighbors, too. After her mother died my family bought their house. This house. Come in, Miss Barr. I’m Jill Joseph. Come in, don’t mind the boys—”
The living room seemed to be overrun with very small boys and puppies. Young Mrs. Joseph shooed the whole group outdoors, and she and Vicki sat down to talk.
“I haven’t any address for Lucy at the moment,” Mrs. Joseph said, “because she’s away. Lucy is a darling. Are you a friend of hers?”
“I’m a friend of a friend of hers,” Vicki said. “An elderly lady who hasn’t heard from Lucy, or had any news of her, since Eleanor—Mrs. Rowe died.”
“Why, that was five years ago!”
“Would you fill me in?” Vicki asked.
Jill Joseph nodded. “Five years ago Lucy and I still had another year to go in high school. Then she lost her mother. This house was quite a lot of work for Lucy and her father—you know how full the last year of high school is, and Mr. Rowe worked hard at—” She named a large San Francisco department store. “So Lucy and her father moved to a small apartment near here, and we bought their house.”
“I see. What sort of work did Mr. Rowe do?”
“For a long time he worked at any job the department store gave him. The Rowes never had an easy time of it financially.” The neighbor hesitated. “It was hard on Lucy’s mother; she seemed to be used to more than the Rowes could afford. A lot of us wondered about Eleanor Rowe. Not that she ever complained—