V e n t u r a

Ventura, he says.

Ventura, California?

Yes, he replies.

Do you have her address?

No. She never gave it to me.

Did she ever ask about me?

Yes, he says, All the time.

What did you say?

I don't know, he pauses, I think I told her everything was fine.

I get off the phone. He's lying; I'm sure of it. Two years ago, I hired someone to trace Hanna Hertzsprung. She's not in this country. Why, then, does Ventura sound so familiar? I call up Demeter. She's been taking care of our father for the last seven years. She would know.

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