She shook her head. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

When Julio arrived with a fresh draft he bumped against the back of Christy's chair and spilled a couple drops of beer on her hair.

"jAy, caramba!"

Ay, caramba?

"I don't believe this!" Christy said.

Julio set down the beer and pulled a dishrag from his back pocket.

"I'm real sorry, lady. Today just ain't been a good day."

Jack watched as he began wiping the back of her head with the cloth.

"Ow!" She pushed his hand away. "Fin fine. I'd rather have beer in my hair than that cloth on it."

"Okay, okay." Julio glanced at the cloth, then grinned at Jack over her shoulder and winked. "Sorry."

Christy grabbed her bag and began to rise.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," she said to Jack, "and I think you know what I mean."

"Wait," he said, gently grabbing her wrist. "We need to talk a little more."

She gave him an uncertain look as she resettled herself.

"About what?"

"Your family, for one."

"What's my family got to do with this?"

"Maybe nothing." Jack thought of the resemblance between her and Thompson and Bolton: maybe everything. "But I'm working every angle and I've got to look into the possibility that there's something personal behind this."

She swallowed. "Personal? What could there possibly—?"

"I don't know. Have you ever seen Bethlehem anywhere before? Take away the beard, take off years… did you ever know him?"

She didn't hesitate. "No."

"You're sure?"

"Look, first off, it's not much of a beard, and second, ever see someone you know dressed up as Santa? Ever have a doubt as to who they were? If you know someone, a beard doesn't hide much close up. And I've been close up to Jerry Bethlehem. I've been in his face. I can tell you that if I ever knew him, it sure wasn't well."

That pretty well shot down one long-shot theory: That if they weren't related, maybe she'd known Bolton as a kid or teen and he was getting even with her for something.

"Okay, then. What about your husband?"

She stiffened. "I've never been married."

"All right—Dawn's father then?"

"He's never been a part of her life and he never will."

Something in her eyes, her tone… evasive?

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't even know she exists."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, you can't be a hundred percent sure of anything, but I'm ninety-nine percent sure."

Jack pulled out the copy of Kick he'd retrieved from his apartment while waiting for her to make it in from Forest Hills. He showed her the jacket photo of Hank Thompson.

"Ever seen him before?"

She shook her head. "No. Why?"

Damn. Another long-shot theory down in flames. He'd hoped Thompson was connected to Christy and was pulling Bolton's strings to get even with her for something—like maybe running off with his daughter. Guess not.

"He might be connected to Bethlehem—another trail I'm pursuing." He leaned forward. "One last subject: your folks. Where are they now?"

"My mother died about five years ago, and I never knew my father."

Damn. He'd hoped she'd make this easy and come out and say his name was Jonah Stevens.

"What was your mother like?"

Another shrug. "I guess some would call her a free spirit, some just plain weird. Sort of a hippy. She belonged to the original Dormentalist commune before—"

"Whoa! Dormentalist? When?"

"Not sure. She quit when, as she put it, 'they went all corporate.'"

The Otherness again. The Dormentalist Church… Otherness connected… like oDNA?

"Did she keep in contact with any Dormentalists?"

Christy shook her head. "Not that I know of."

Now for the all-important question.

"You say you never knew your father, but did your mother ever mention his name?"

"Where's all this going? The only member of my family I want you interested in is Dawn."

"I'm looking for connections. Now, about your father?"

"Can't tell you much. Whenever I asked my mother what he was like she'd call him her 'pirate man.'"

"He had a criminal record?"

"No, because he wore an eye patch."

Jack felt a tingle of anticipation. Jonah Stevens had had a blind eye that he'd told young Jeremy Bolton could see the future.

"Did she ever say anything else about him?"

She shrugged. "Whenever I'd ask why he wasn't around she'd tell me he'd been swallowed by a whale." She gave him a crooked smile. "Told you she was weird."

Jack leaned back. Not weird at all if she was referring to someone named Jonah.

That pretty much clinched it: Jonah Stevens had fathered Christy as well. What was he? Some sort of walking sperm bank?

She glanced at her watch and rose.

"I've got to go. The last thing in the world I feel like doing is rehearsing a musical, but a lot of people are depending on me. Call me tomorrow to let me know how this surveillance turned out. I need results, and soon."

"Talk to you then."

When she was gone, he looked up at Julio. "Ay carambaV

The little man shrugged as he slid into Christy's seat. "What was 1 gonna say to the blanquita? 'Fuck'? I figure she watch Simpsons."

"You look more like Poncho than Bart."

"Poncho who?"

"Don't recall his last name. Cisco's pal. It was his expression."

"Cisco Kid? Like the song?"

"Yeah, but—never mind."

The TV show had been popular before either of them had taken a breath. Jack had caught some reruns on a cable channel. Leo Carillo used to say it all the time. Heard it from Ricky Ricardo a couple of times too.

Julio opened the towel and showed Jack the strands of hair trapped in the folds.

"This what you wanted, meng?"

Jack didn't want to tell Julio his efforts had been for nothing. That they'd only confirm what he already knew.

"Exactly. Nice job. Now, if you can get me a baggy and a pair of latex gloves, I'll be on my way."

Julio frowned. "Latex gloves… I don't know, meng."

"You've got to have them. Doesn't the health code say you need to wear them when you handle food?"

"We microwave. You know that. But I think we gotta box aroun' somewhere. We put it out for the health inspector."

He went into the back and returned a few minutes later with the baggy and a couple gloves. As Jack pulled them on, Julio sat and picked up the remains of the cosmo.

"She don' like my drink?"

Jack used his knife to slit the envelope.

"She loved it. She had appointments and had to go."

Julio took a sip. "Hey, not bad. Maybe I make these regular."

Jack removed the cash, then slipped the envelope into the baggy. The strands of Christy's hair followed.

"You can serve them by the pitcher."

"Yeah. But no martini glasses."

Jack tried to picture Julio's regulars with their pinkies raised as they sipped cosmos from long-stemmed glasses.

Oh, the humanity.

He sealed the baggy and stuck it in his jacket pocket.

"You being real careful, huh."

Jack nodded as he removed the gloves. "Any prints on that envelope are going to be run through the feds. I don't think I'm in any of their computers and I want to keep it that way."

He pulled out his phone to call Levy.