My name is Richard Hart, Private Investigator. You probably heard of me during the Smythe-Frye necklace scandal when I broke the case and uncovered a huge drug plot involving the family, a crime lord and a biker gang.

No? Well doesn't matter I guess. It got a lot of coverage though - I just thought maybe . . .

Anyway, on this stinking hot morning I'm sitting out on the fire escape outside my office window with a coffee watching the people on the street below seek the last bits of shade as the sun slides over the buildings. That's one advantage I have living where I work, I don't have to join the huddled masses.

The cool metal straps of the fire escape platform felt good against my back and I was staying out as long as possible - until my phone rang. I scrambled back inside, bare feet slapping on the old hardwood floor as I leaned on the desk and gabbed the phone.

"Hart Investigations."

The voice was soft, female, with an underlying calm desperation and I slipped around the desk into my chair listening as she explained her reason for calling. I don't like missing person cases and I try to avoid them but in this instance I was really curious to see the woman behind the voice and made an appointment for later this morning.

The name she gave was Alice Comfort and the address was the King's Arms. Not a real posh place but clean with an old world ambience. Alice Comfort met me at the door of her suite in a long gown straight out of the old west; all it needed was a bonnet.

"Mr. Hart, please come and sit. May I get you something to drink?"

She was older than I'd guessed with blonde silver hair done in a loose bun and very little makeup aside from a touch around the eyes and lips.

"Sure, vodka with a twist if you have it." It was nearly noon.

"Oh, I didn't mean alcohol, Mr. Hart. I don't drink, perhaps some juice or tea?"

"Aah . . . no, that's fine. I'm good."

She picked up a large envelope then sat across from me on a settee, the gown flaring out around her feet like a picnic blanket.

"I suppose I should start at the beginning."

"Never a bad place." I smiled encouragingly.

Forty minutes later I sat staring at the bits and pieces from the envelope and wondering how to go about telling Alice Comfort that she was chasing pie in the sky.

"Miss Comfort--"

"Alice, please." The smile was beatific.

"Right, Alice . . . call me Rick. This person went missing forty years ago."

"Yes, I was just a young girl."

"But forty years! I mean, you must have tried before this to find him."

"Oh I have. The whole time." The pale blue eyes riveted mine.

The whole time! "But if you haven't had any success in all that time why now again?"

"It's because I have spent all that time . . . Rick. I can't give up now."

"Why is it so important?"

"Please, Rick. I feel you may be my last chance. I'm too tired to keep after this on my own."

"Haven't you asked for help before this?"

"Yes but almost all the other investigators I tried to hire walked out before I even finished my story. Those that didn't just made a token effort, took my money and left. I heard that you were a fair man and would at least listen."

Who could have told her that?

"Who told you that?"

"I've forgotten the name."

"Hmm . . . well I have listened, Alice and I have to say . . . I have to ask again why you need to find this person?"

"I prefer to keep my reasons personal, Mr. Hart. It's just something I must do."

Back to Mr. Hart "Ah, okay." I slipped all the items back into the envelope and gave her a dopey smile. "Leave it with me for a couple of days and I'll see what I can dig up. No promises, Alice."

"None expected. Thank you, Mr. Hart."

I could hear everyone I knew screaming 'Sucker!'

********

I hated being a sucker for attractive women . . . well not really but in this case I felt I made a mistake. The whole thing seemed too bizarre, even Alice's refusal to give her reason for finding the guy was weak - Must do? What was that? I sorted through the material again and decided to make some calls. First was to a buddy in the Police Archives.

"Sergeant Case, Archives."

"Hey, Cole, how are you buddy? How's life in the musty cellar of history?"

"Time consuming. What can I do you for?"

"I'm looking at a missing person case and I wondered if you could do a search for me?"

"Details."

"Name is Roe - R-O-E. Initials H D. About sixty-five or so now."

"Now? What does that mean?"

"He was involved in something forty years ago on a country road."

"Forty years ago on a country road . . . oh, well, give me just a second . . . are you nuts, Hart?"

"C'mon, Cole you guys are all computerized now just a search for the name at least?"

"When I get time."

"Thanks, buddy. Soon?"

"Goodbye, Hart."

********

I knew that soon it wouldn't be so I went through the material again trying to glean some nugget that would suggest a direction. I wondered again why a little girl would spend forty years trying to find a man she really didn't even know. Forty years. What could be so important after all that time?

Among the clippings was a piece on gangs that were active back in the day and their evolution. That seemed an odd thing to have but Cole might be able to dig something up. I picked up the receiver and put it down again. That just might be pressing my luck, instead it gave me another idea and so off I went to the research library and another friend.

"Richard Hart, my goodness it's been a while." The pleasant looking woman gave me a matching smile.

"But you've never left my mind, Marion . . . my lovely librarian."

"Another favour?" She laughed, recalling the first time I had used the Music Man reference with her name.

"Marion . . . uhm, yes." I gave her my boyish grin.

A quick summary of my case and then I showed her the gang clippings, asking if she might have anything in her library. She was interested enough to say she would look into it but my standing there wasn't going to get it done.

Lucky for me it was lunch time.

********

I entered the diner and slid into my favourite booth and watched the real love of my life slipping luncheon specials sheets into the menu covers. She poured two coffees and brought them to the booth settling in across from me.

"Not working?"

"Not on my lunch."

"So you are working?" Her Japanese/Caucasian mix gave her a feature that smashed all my defences and I gazed into those amazing eyes, searching for that mysterious green tint that appeared on certain occasions. "Hart?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yes I am working actually. A missing person case."

"And they want you to find them?"

"Hey!"

"Hart you can't find your plate with a fork."

"Nice, very nice. I can find turkey wraps easily enough when someone wants one."

"True. Okay. So who's missing?"

I told her quickly about the case and Alice Comfort, pausing while she brought me my standing order of Thai Bites and refusing my fake offer to share.

"Sounds like something weird you'd get mixed up in."

"I'm not mixed up, I just said I'd give it a look."

"Well good luck with that. Your missing person sounds like a good egg though." The green tint came and went with a grin and she went back to work as customers came into the diner.

Good egg?

I puzzled over that all the way back to the office and it wasn't until I reached there that it hit me. Roe. Egg. Could that be what she meant? Jerking my leg? The more I thought about it the more I began to worry. Verna had an eerie knack for seeing through things that I didn't. Alice's information suddenly sounded somewhat fantastic. Country road. Overweight. Smooth talker . . . initials H D. I opened up my laptop and did some searching.

Lewis Caroll's tales of wonderland. I sat back stupefied. Humpty Dumpty the egg. H.D. Roe and Alice. Miss Comfort had said she met him on a country road when she was a little girl and all that business about his convincing words . . . I leaned back and stared at my ceiling, picturing the situation and an ominous thought crept into my mind.

My client had created her own wonderland to mask an ugly truth.