The Father Hunt

It was getting messy. Or rather, it was getting too damn pure and simple. I knew people who liked to think of themselves as loners, but Amy Denovo really was one; with her it wasn't just thinking. I suggested that we might try the sandwiches, and she agreed and took one, and took

a bite. Naturally, when I am eating with someone, male or female, for the first time, I notice the details of his or her performance, since it tells a lot about the person, but that time I didn't because the way she took a bite, or chewed, or swallowed, or licked her lips, had no bearing on the fix she was in. I did observe that there was nothing wrong with her appetite, and she proved that she liked the egg-and-anchovy combo by taking her full share. She asked if it was on Nero Wolfe's list of favorites, and I said no, he would probably sneer at it. When the platter was empty she said she hadn't thought it would make her hungry, telling someone the secret she had kept bottled up so long, but it had. She gave me a little smile, the dimples coming, and said, "We don't really know ourselves, do we?"

"It depends," I said. "Some of us know too much, and some not enough. I don't want to know why I get out of bed mornings in a fog, I might never sleep again. To hell with it, I always find my way out. As for you, you're not in a fog, you're under a spotlight that you turned on yourself. Why don't you just turn it off?"

"I did not

turn it on myself. Other people did it, especially my mother. I can't turn it off."

"Well, then. What's your biggest question? Your mother's real name and so on, or your father?"

"My father, of course. After all, I have lived with my mother all my life, and I suppose my wanting to know her real name and things about her is just… well, curiosity. But I must know about my father. Is he alive? Who is he? What is he? His genes made me!"

I nodded. "Yeah, you went to Smith. You learned too much about genes. Mr. Wolfe said once that scientists should keep their findings strictly to themselves; by spilling it they just complicate things for other people. Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thanks."

"They have good sweet things."

She shook her head. "I admit I could eat anything, it's really amazing, my being so hungry, but I'd rather not. What do you…? You said you might have a suggestion."

"I know I did." I turned a hand over on the table. "You've got a tough one. I'm afraid you need more than