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straight to the point, but like Jane, he had never heard of Kasla. I asked if he could find out about the two agencies who had not answered my calls. I gave him the names. He did not ask many questions.
    Two days later, Wainaina called me. “Well, one of the agencies has been closed for a few years now. The other is a children’s homeless shelter that doubles as an adoption agency, Three Ms. Their logo is a pair of eyeglasses.”
    He did not have the names of the owners but said he would look them up in the registry and get back to me. Nothing much, I thought, except for the logo. Even with this, I brushed aside Melinda’s cautionary advice, got on the phone with Ben, and asked to meet him. Even I could see that the information from Jane and Wainaina was not breaking news, but I wanted any excuse to urge Ben to have the file on Kasla opened and ask if he could give me more details about the Palmer and Kasla connection before I confronted Zack.
    Twenty minutes later, Ben was sitting across from me at a Starbucks close to his precinct in the Bronx. As he munched his croissant with his coffee, I told him what I had garnered so far, and my hopes.
    “I see where you are going with this,” Ben said, looking at me quizzically. “The Kasla file, as I told you, has been closed. We can’t chase ghosts, suspicions, and gossip. Mugure, what are you really looking for? You aren’t cut out for this investigative stuff. It could mean trouble.”
    “Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I am coming to you?”
    “You don’t have anything concrete. Names of agencies in Kenya with eyeglasses for logos? A little piece of paper with your child’s name written on the back is not exactly evidence of a kidnapping ring. “
    “I have not said a thing about rings and kidnapping,” I said, my frustration and irritation matching his skepticism. “What about the threats? The phone call warning me to stop asking questions? At the very least, you can investigate how the Kasla premises became a curio shop.”
    “I don’t know.” He paused and looked at me again, and it dawned on me what he was implying.
    “Are you saying I lied about that phone call?” I asked in a slightly tremulous voice.
    “No, no. It’s not that. But I have to be candid. I told you about Edward and Palmer representing Kasla. What has Zack told you about it? Quite frankly, I thought that was why you wanted to see me.”
    I felt his scrutiny: It was as if I were under investigation. I felt foolish and awkward. “I have not yet talked to him about it.”
    “Why? It would seem his responses would be a good starting point. Charity begins at home, that kind of thing. What about the telephone threat? Have you talked to him about it?”
    “I thought I’d dig up a few facts first. I hoped you would give me a few concrete details. Something written, for instance. I did not want to spread fear to the entire family.”
    “Shall I talk to him about it?” he suddenly asked, ignoring my requests.
    “Ben, I know you are trying to be helpful,” I said in a conciliatory tone. “I will talk to him myself. I am sure he will tell me everything about the Edward and Palmer connection. And what he does not know, he can dig up in the firm’s archives. I promise to share with you whatever I find out. But leave it to me. For now.”
    He stood there looking at me in a way that he had not done before. His unfinished croissant gaped up like a fish’s pouting mouth. He was about to say something and then changed his mind, got up, and walked away slowly, as if debating whether to come back or simply continue. I sat there, confused. Was I going crazy? I got up and ordered another coffee, a venti, and sipped it slowly.
    Oh God, I was picking up Kobi from school, I remembered. In a panic, I looked at the time and realized I had fifteen minutes to get there. I ran over to the car, some meters from the café. I was backing out when I saw a car come out of nowhere. I tried to step