Giacomo frowned into his beer. “Sometimes I lose my patience. Not that it woulda made a difference. I coulda been the nicest guy in the world, no one was gonna do anything to find Tori. So I have to go back and tell my wife I got nothing and she goes and has a nervous breakdown on me.”

He pinged a thumbnail on the side of his glass.

Milo said, “Sorry.”

“She got over it,” said Giacomo. “Doctors gave her antidepressants, counseling, whatever. Plus, she had five other kids to deal with- the baby’s thirteen, still in the house. Keeping busy, that’s the best thing. Helps her not think about Tori.”

Milo nodded and drank tea. Giacomo finally lifted his glass and drank.

“Tastes like Bud,” he said. “What is this place, Pakistani?”

“Indian.”

“We got those where I come from.”

“Indians?”

“Them and their restaurants. I never been.”

“Bayside,” said Milo.

“Grew up there, stayed there. Hasn’t changed that bad except now on top of your Italians and your Jews you get Chinese and other Orientals and Indians. I fixed a coupla their washing machines. Ever been to Bayside?”

Milo shook his head.

Giacomo looked at me.

I said, “Been to Manhattan, that’s it.”

“That’s the city. The city’s for the filthy rich people and homeless poor people, you got no room for the normal people in between.” He took a generous swallow of beer. “Definitely Bud.” Rolling a fist on the table, he flexed his forearms. Tendons jumped. The big, white teeth again. Eager to bite something.

“Tori wanted to be noticed. Since she was a little girl, my wife told her she was special. Taking her to these baby beauty contests, sometime she won a ribbon, it made the wife happy. Dancing and singing lessons, all these school plays. Problem was, Tori’s grades weren’t so great, one semester they threatened her she’d have to drop out of theater arts unless she passed math. She passed with a D, but that’s what it took, threats.”

I said, “Acting was her main thing.”

“Her mother was always telling her she could be this big movie star. Encouraging her, for the whatchmacallit, the self-esteem. Sounds good but it also put ideas in Tori’s head.”

“Ambitions,” I said.

Giacomo pushed his glass away. “Tori shoulda never come out here, what did she know about being on her own? It was the first time she was ever on a plane. This is a crazy place, right? You guys tell me if I’m wrong.”

Milo said, “It can be rough.”

“Crazy,” Giacomo repeated. “Tori never worked a day in her life before she came out here. Until the baby came along she was the only girl, it’s not like she’s gonna work with me. Right?”

“Did she live at home before she came out here?”

“Always, with her mother doing everything for her. She never made her own bed. That’s why it was crazy, picking up out of the blue.”

“Was it a sudden decision?” I said.

Giacomo frowned. “Her mother was putting it in her head for years, but, yeah, when she announced it, it was sudden. Tori was nine years outta high school but she done nothing except for getting married and that didn’t last.”

“When’d she get married?” said Milo.

“When she was nineteen. A kid she dated in high school, not a bad guy but not too bright.” Giacomo tapped his head. “At first, Mikey worked for me, I was trying to help out. Kid couldn’t figure out how to use a frickin’ Allen wrench. So he went to work with his uncle instead.”

“Doing what?”

“Sanitation Department, like the rest of his family. Good pay and benefits, you get in the union, it’s all about who you know. Used to do it myself but you come home stinkin’ and I got tired of that. Tori said Mikey stunk when he came home, it wouldn’t wash off. Maybe that’s why she got it annulled, I dunno.”

“How long did the marriage last?” said Milo.

“Three years. Then she’s back at home sitting around, doing nothing for five years except going out on auditions for commercials, modeling, whatever.”

“She ever get anything?”

Giacomo shook his head. Bending, he unzipped a compartment of the red suitcase and drew out two head-shots.

Tori Giacomo’s face was millimeters longer than the perfect oval. Huge dark eyes were topped by feathery, fake lashes. Too-dark eye shadow from another era. Same cleft chin as her father. Pretty, maybe borderline beautiful. It had taken me a few seconds to come to that conclusion, and in a world of flash impressions that wouldn’t be enough.

In one photo, her hair was long, dark, and wavy. In the other, she’d switched to a shoulder-length, feathery platinum cut.

“She’s always been a gorgeous kid,” said Lou Giacomo. “But that ain’t enough, right? You gotta do immoral stuff to get ahead. Tori’s a good girl, never missed mass on Sunday and that’s not ’cause we forced her. My oldest sister became a nun and Tori was always close to Mary Agnes. Mary Agnes pulled strings with the monsignor to get the annulment through.”

“Tori had a spiritual side,” I said.

“Very, very spiritual. When I was out here I found out where the churches were near her apartment and went to all of them.” Giacomo’s eyes narrowed. “No one knew her, not the priests, the secretaries, no one. So right away I knew something was wrong.”

His expression said he meant that on more than one level.

I said, “Tori’d stopped going to church.”

Giacomo sat up straighter. “Some of those churches, they weren’t much to look at, not like St. Robert Bellarmine, where my wife goes, that’s a church. So maybe Tori wanted a nice church, like she was used to, I dunno. I went to the biggest one you guys got, downtown. Talked to an assistant to the assistant to the cardinal or whatever. Thinking maybe they had some records. No one knew a damn thing there, either.”

He sat back. “That’s it. Ask me whatever you want.”

Milo began with the usual questions, starting with Tori’s ex-husband, the not-too-bright, odiferous Mikey.

Lou Giacomo said, “Mortensen wanted to know the same thing. So I’ll tell you what I told him: No way. First off, I know the family and they’re good people. Second, Mikey’s a good kid, the soft type, you know? Third, he and Tori stayed friendly, there was no problem, they were just too young. Fourth, he never been out of New York.”

He huffed, glanced over his shoulder. “Not much business in this place. The food got a problem?”

“How often did Tori call home?”

“Coupla times a week she talked to her mother. She knew I wasn’t real happy about her picking up and leaving. She thought I didn’t understand nothing.”

“What’d she tell her mother?”

“That she was making a living on tips and learning how to act.”

“Learning where?”

Giacomo frowned. “She never said. I double-checked with the wife after I talked to you. You can call her and ask any questions you like, but all she’s gonna do is cry, believe me.”

“Give me Mikey’s last name,” said Milo. “For the record.”

“Michael Caravanza. Works at the Forest Hills branch. He and Tori looked happier split up than at the wedding. Like both of them were free, or something.” He snorted. “Like you can ever be free. Go ahead, ask me more.”

Ten more minutes of questioning revealed a sad truth: Louis Giacomo Junior knew precious little about his daughter’s life since she’d come out to L.A.

Milo said, “The article on Michaela Brand caught your attention.”

“The acting thing, you know.” Giacomo’s shoulders dropped. “I read it, got sick in the stomach. I don’t wanna think the worst but it’s been two years. No matter what her mother says, Tori woulda called.”

“What does her mother say?”

“Arlene gets crazy theories in her head. Tori met some billionaire and she’s off on some yacht. Stupid stuff like that.” The whites of Giacomo’s eyes had pinkened around the edges. He choked back a surge of emotion with a furious growl.