There had been a confusion concerning the car situation, and when I finally believed to have found the right car, he had left me. I did not see which car he drove off with, but it must have been like little Timmy in the cookie-investigation committee - suspiciously silent.

I was alone, but I wasn't missing his company. He hadn't left me much, besides a nagging empty spot where my sister used to be (albeit it was less nagging now than when it was full) and reduced her to a wasted line in my phonebook. But he had left me a clue.

The letter 'r', a clue to her location. Now an r can mean anything. My gut said Restaurant, but I attributed that to not having eaten since the day before. Rodeo? Ranch? Racetrack? It was a vague clue, but it was something to go on.

But there was something else too. The price. He wanted more dough than I've owned in my life, and his own life on top of that. There was something about the way he said this that triggered an ancient memory, but it was all just a blur. All I knew for sure was that our paths must have crossed before all this and that to him - this was personal.

As I sat in the back of this car, I tried to picture this Jaap character in my mind, tried to connect it with this ancient memory. If I am a private eye, then he is a private nose - with a face attached to it, and a tall body below just barely reaching the ground. His black, grasy hair would leave any cogwheel spin in jealousy - and his flat voice would make any machine swoon. He had one good feature - he didn't ring any bells.

I left the car and headed for the Italian place. As far as I was concerned the meeting was still on, and I needed something to chew on - because the case was going stale.

And god damn, he had my gun.

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