Vicki got to her feet. “Even a few minutes’ talk could be revealing.”
Mr. Hall wrote down the Graveses’ address, and gave Vicki directions for getting there. She thanked the minister warmly for all his help and kindness. He said, just as warmly:
“I feel you and I are in league for Lucy’s best interests.” He smiled, and his eyes seemed to look through and through her. “Perhaps you have more news of Lucy than you were willing to confide in me on a first visit. Come back and see me again, whether or not you learn any news.”
Gravy was a large, noisy young man. He boomed at her that his wife Maggie was out shopping, he’d made a mess of the studio, and if she was a friend of Lucy’s how come he’d never met her before?
Vicki followed him into a workmanlike studio, explaining that she was only the friend of a friend of their mutual friend.
“How’s that again?” Gravy boomed at her. He looked at her sternly. “Interesting planes in your face. Ever sit for a portrait?”
Vicki perched on a paint-splattered wooden chair and said firmly, “No, and I’m afraid I’m too busy to. Can we talk about Lucy?”
“Okay. Gosh, you look serious. There isn’t anything wrong, is there? About Lucy, I mean.”
“I don’t know that anything’s wrong,” Vicki said carefully. “It’s just that I’ve heard confused reports about her, and she’s gone off traveling with a woman she hardly knows. That wasn’t wise.”