I felt a sudden shift in my perspective. I could see in a flash what a strange pleasure I’d taken in being related to no one. I’d actually managed to feel superior about my isolation. I was subtle about it, but I could see that I’d turned it into a form of self-congratulation. I wasn’t the common product of the middle class. I wasn’t a party to any convoluted family drama—the feuds, unspoken alliances, secret agreements, and petty tyrannies. Of course, I wasn’t a party to the good stuff, either, but who cared about that? I was different. I was special. At best, I was self-created; at worst, the hapless artifact of my aunt’s peculiar notions about raising little girls. In either event, I regarded myself an outsider, a loner, which suited me to perfection. Now I had to consider the possibility of this unknown family unit… whether I would claim them or they would claim me.
I rewound the reel of film and took the cassette up to the counter. I left the building and crossed the street, heading toward the three-story parking structure where I’d left my car. On my right was the public library, where I knew I could rustle up the Lompoc phone book if I was interested. But was I? Reluctantly I paused, debating the issue. It’s only information, I said to myself. You don’t have to make a decision, you just need to know.
I took a right, going up the outside stairs and into the building. I turned right again, pushing through the turnstiles designed to capture book thieves. The city directories and various telephone books from towns all across the state were shelved on the first floor to the left of the reference desk. I found the telephone book for Lompoc and leafed through the pages where I stood. I didn’t want to act as if I cared enough to sit.
There was only one “Kinsey” listed, not Burton but Cornelia, my mother’s mother, with the telephone number but no address. I found the Polk Directory for Lompoc and Vandenberg Air Force Base, checking the section where the telephone numbers were listed in order, beginning with the prefix. Cornelia was listed with an address on Willow Avenue. I checked the Polk Directory for the year before and saw that Burton was listed with her. The obvious inference was that she’d been widowed sometime between this year’s census and the last. Terrific. What a deal. First time I find out I have a grandfather, he’s dead. I made a note of the address on one of the deposit slips at the back of my checkbook. Half the people I know use deposit slips in lieu of business cards. Why don’t banks add a few blanks back there for memos? I shoved the checkbook in my bag again and resolutely forgot about it. Later, I’d decide what I wanted to do.
I went back to the law office and let myself in the side entrance. When I opened the door, I found the message light blinking on my answering machine. I pressed the playback button and then went about the business of opening a window while I listened.
“Miss Millhone, this is Harris Brown. I’m a retired Santa Teresa police lieutenant and I just got a call from Lieutenant Whiteside over there who tells me you’re trying to locate Wendell Jaffe. As I believe he mentioned, that was one of the last cases I worked before I left the department, and I’d be happy to discuss some of the details with you if you’ll give me a call. I’ll be in and out this afternoon, but you can probably reach me between two and three-fifteen at…”
I snatched up a pen and caught the number as he recited it. I checked my watch. Poot. It was only twelve forty-five. I tried the number anyway on the off chance he’d be there. No such luck. I tried Renata Huff again, but she wasn’t home, either. I still had my hand on the receiver when the phone rang. “Kinsey Millhone Investigations,” I said.
“May I speak to Mrs. Millhome?” some woman asked in a sing-song voice.
“This is she,” I replied with caution. This was going to be a pitch.
“Mrs. Millhome, this is Patty Kravitz with Telemarketing Incorporated? How are you today?” She’d been instructed to smile at this point so her voice would sound very warm and friendly.
I ran my tongue along the inside of my cheek. “Fine. What about yourself?”
“That’s good, Mrs. Millhome, we know you’re a busy person, but we’re conducting a survey for an exciting new product and wonder if you could take a few minutes to answer some questions. If you’re willing to assist us, we have a nice prize already set aside for you. Can we count on your help?”
I could hear the babble of other voices in the boiler room behind her. “What’s the product?”
“I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to divulge that information. I am permitted to indicate that this is an airline-related service and within the next few months will result in the introduction of an innovative new concept in business and leisure travel. Can we take just a few minutes out of your busy schedule?”