Chapter 3.

That's how I found myself escorted by Nina and Jess to their father's house on a hill overlooking the town. It was fake Tudor, meant to be imposing, but coming across as pretentious and cold. The gates to the drive opened for Nina in her BMW, and I quickly followed through on my bike, pulling up behind her in the circular driveway.

Jess brought up the rear in a spiffy little sports car. The three of us approached the front door together, but it was Nina who opened it.

"Father, where are you?" she called out.

"In the library," came the reply, but he was already coming toward us, a tall and imposing man with well-groomed gray hair, in casual black slacks, a tan checked shirt and a brown cashmere cardigan. Seeing me with his daughters, his thick brows rose questioningly.

"Father, this is..." Jess began, but then realized she didn't know my name.

"Dr. Gregory House," I supplied, looking the man straight in his gray eyes.

"Doctor," he said with a nod of his head. I noticed he didn't offer to shake my hand. That was fine with me. He looked at Jess to explain why I was there.

"Dr. House is looking for Petey and that waitress he ran off with," she said. "He thought we might know where they are."

Giordano stared at me. "I'm sure my daughters have told you we have no idea where he is."

I nodded.

Jess went on, "He says they have a baby and the baby is sick."

"A baby," Giordano repeated, but there was no response, emotional or otherwise.

"I examined Christopher at the hospital where I work a few weeks ago. The problem appeared to be chronic rather than acute, but if he's left untreated, it could get worse," I explained. "I can't be sure until I figure out what it is."

"Surely they gave you an address," Giordano said. He was beginning to sound annoyed with me, annoyed that anyone would bother him with this.

"They came into the clinic," I said. "We don't require that kind of information." I wish we did, but so many patients are homeless or transients that it wouldn't matter anyway.

"I'm sorry you wasted your time coming here. I can't help you," he said dismissively.

But I wouldn't leave that easily. "It's possible that it's genetic. Mr. Giordano, I understand you're a widower. What did Mrs. Giordano die from?"

"Really, that's none of your business!" he shouted.

But his daughters had grasped why I asked. "She was killed in an auto accident," Nina said. "It really has nothing to do with this."

I nodded and moved on. "What can you tell me about Ellie?"

"Nothing," Nina said.

But Jess asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Her maiden name, where she came from, that sort of thing."

Jess seemed to think about it. "Cleary, I think. Her name's Eleanor Cleary."

"And she's from around here?"

"How should we know?" Giordano asked.

Jess ignored her father. "Her parents live in that mobile home park just south of town, I think."

I nodded. Maybe they'd be more cooperative about giving me helpful information about Christopher's parents. "Well, sorry to take your time," I said, although I wasn't. But before I left, I shot one more comment Giordano's way. "I would have thought you might have cared a little more about helping your grandson."

"We only have your word that he is my grandson," was the response. "Good day to you, Doctor. I'm sure you can find your way out." He turned and left, walking back the way he came.

I left the two sisters standing there and went out to my bike. I guess the Giordanos were anxious for me to leave, because by the time I reached the gates at the end of the drive, they were open.

They hadn't been very forthcoming with information about Petey and Ellie, but I realized there was someone else in town who might know more about Christopher's mother. So I returned to Boomer's. It was mid-afternoon, and the place was fairly empty. The bartender was arranging bottles of alcoholic beverages and didn't see me at first, but when he caught a glimpse in the mirror above the bar, he turned and said, "You again."

"Got a couple more questions for you," I told him.

"Didn't get anywhere with Nina, did you?" he asked, smirking at me.

I ignored the comment and plunged in. "What can you tell me about Ellie Cleary?"

"Other than the fact that she took off one day without any warning?" he replied. "She was actually a pretty good waitress,"

"I understand her parents live just outside of town."

He nodded. "In the trailer park. Her mom works at the laundromat down the street from here. I think her dad was laid off from his job at the factory in Little Falls."

"Did she live with them?"

"No, she had a one-room place here in town."

I doubted that checking her place would be any help, so I didn't even bother to ask for the address. "Look, if you hear from her, give me a call?" I handed him my card. "I really need to find her and her son."

"Son? She has a kid?"

I nodded. "That's why I want to find her. The kid's sick and we need to find out what's wrong with him." I weighed my remaining options. "I'll go out and talk to her father. Thanks for your help."

He nodded. "I hope you find her. Aside from leaving me without one of my best waitresses, she was really a nice young woman. A little naïve, too trusting, but nice, ya know?"

"Which way to the trailer park?" I asked as I headed for the door.

"It's just south of town. Main Street continues on as a state road. It's about two miles on the left. Can't miss it."

I walked back out into the sunshine. It was beginning to get hot out, hotter than usual for this time of year. I got back on my bike and headed south, hoping this lead would help, but not very optimistic.

The stores and small office buildings ended abruptly, but as the bartender had said, the road continued on. Not much traffic this time of day, in either direction. Less than two miles out of town I saw the sign, Lazy Acres Mobile Park. About twenty or so single- and double-wide homes were arranged on either side of two intersecting lanes. Some seemed well cared for, with potted plants on brick or stone patios just outside the door and even a rose bush or two. Others had seen better days.

A woman stood outside one of the nicer places, using a garden hose to water her plants. I stopped and asked, "Excuse me, could you tell me where I could find the Clearys?"

She studied me a bit and somehow concluded I wasn't there to steal their meager belongings or murder them. "Last place down that way," she said, pointing to a double-wide that was one of the nicest in the park.

"Thanks," I told her, and rode on.