Charlie rubbed her head. “Harry, don’t you think it’s getting kind of late?”
He glanced at his wristwatch. “Very. What time do you close the bar?”
“At two. And as soon as I change, I have to check on things. So really, it’d be better—”
He gave her his back. “Jillian, if you’d like to lead the way, I’ll drink my hot chocolate and then head home. Charlie’s absolutely correct that it’s been a rather full day.”
Jill smiled. “Follow me.”
Eyes narrowed, Charlie stomped along behind them up the silent stairwell. When they reached the top, Jill used the key hanging from her wrist to unlock the door. She said over her shoulder to Harry, “The doors automatically lock when they shut.”
“Good idea. Are you ever bothered by the noise downstairs?”
“Not at all. I’m used to it.”
“And the patrons respect your privacy?”
“Patrons?” Jill giggled as she headed down another hall and into the kitchen, the first room on the left at the top of the landing. Water already boiled in a softly whistling teapot, so Charlie got down three mugs and the tin of chocolate powder. Jillian dug three spoons from the drawer. “I’d hardly call the guys who hang out here ‘patrons.’”
“No? Then what would you call them?” Harry seated himself at the Formica table and crossed his long legs. He looked entirely too much at his leisure to suit Charlie, especially when she noted him looking around, surveying their small but tidy kitchen.
Jill shrugged. “I don’t know. Regulars? I suppose that’s the nicest thing I can come up with. Oh, really, they’re not all bad. But as Charlie has always told me, we attract a certain clientele here at the Lucky Goose, and it doesn’t include anyone who’s too discriminating.”
Charlie finished stirring in the chocolate and handed Harry his cup. He sipped, made appropriate sounds of approval, then leaned back in his chair. “Do you ever go into the bar?”
“Are you kidding? Charlie has fits if I even peek in there after four o’clock. Before that, it’s pretty tame, just a few guys hanging around, usually getting a sandwich and a beer. She doesn’t mind if I’m in there then. But the rowdiest crowds don’t start until after seven.”
“What time do you open?”
“Charlie opens it up from two in the afternoon to two in the morning. She’s got things pretty organized and we get a pretty steady crowd.”
Harry made a pretense of drinking his chocolate, but Charlie could easily see the crafty interest in his gaze. “Those are long hours to work. What other employees do you have?”
Waving a hand, Jill commented, “Charlie likes to keep things simple, so she doesn’t hire in much help. She does almost everything herself, which means she works much more than she should.”
“So it seems.”
“The only relaxation she gets is in the tub. I swear, she’ll soak for hours. There’ve been a few times she’s fallen asleep in there—”
“Jill.” Charlie could feel the heat pulsing in her face.
Twin dimples showed in her sister’s cheeks when she grinned, proving Charlie’s warnings did little good.
“We have a bouncer, of course, who also serves as a bartender on occasion. Then there’s the regular bartender, and two women who help serve drinks during the busiest hours. Other than them, we have a few part-timers who fill in every now and then.”
“Do you have need of the bouncer very often?”
“Nope.” Jill leaned forward and dropped her tone to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you saw the guy Charlie hired, you’d know why. He’s a real sweetheart, but no one seems to know that, and given his handicap and the way he always—”
Charlie interrupted, thumping her mug of chocolate onto the table and spilling a bit. “That’s enough, Jill.” She didn’t want Harry getting the idea she had an overly soft heart, but if Jill had her way, she’d start telling stories that could give anyone the wrong impression. Her sister had a way of slanting the perspective to always put Charlie in a very rosy light.
She narrowed her gaze at Harry. “Okay, give. Why the third degree?”
After another long drink of his chocolate, Harry pretended confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was only making idle chitchat.”
“Chitchat? Is that what you call it?” She glanced at Jill, who looked horrified by her sister’s sudden rudeness, and explained, “Harry’s a P.I. Snooping is his business.”
Fascinated, Jill stared.
Harry raised a supercilious eyebrow. “Actually, I investigate. I do not snoop.”
“Uh-huh. So why snoop here? I’m paying you to check on my father, not to pry into my personal life.”
Jill groaned. “Oh, Charlie, you didn’t? I thought we agreed! There’s no reason—”
“Don’t start being dramatic, Jill.” In an aside to Harry, she explained, “Jill is prone to melodrama, no doubt because of her age.”
Harry made a rude sound to that. “More likely due to her sister’s penchant to get into trouble.”
“Harry—”
“No, don’t berate me. My brain is tired and I really do need to head home.” He finished off the chocolate, stood, then took Jill’s hand once again. “It’s amazing your hair is still brown and not gray. I swear, while I was with her today, I could feel the gray hairs struggling to sprout.”
Jill giggled. “She has a way about her.”
“Indeed.”
“She’s also the very best sister in the world.”
“I got that impression.”
“That’s enough out of both of you!” Charlie circled the table and stood toe to toe with Harry. She had to bend her head way back to meet his gaze. “When do you think you’ll know something?”
He cocked a brow. “I know an abundance of things, Charlie. Can you be more specific?”
She ground her teeth together. “When, exactly, do you think you’ll be able to give me some info on my father? I don’t mean to rush you, but I don’t want to wait too long, either.”
“Patience,” Jill muttered as she put Harry’s mug in the sink, “is not one of Charlie’s strong suits.”
She was ready to refute that when Harry touched her cheek with two fingers. “I’ll get back to you just as soon as I can. Try not to worry, okay?”
She gulped, feeling that simple touch all the way to her bare toes and back up again. “Can you…maybe give me a ballpark guess?”
He smiled. “I’ll tell you what. Give me your phone number and I’ll call you tomorrow evening. By then I should be able to have a better idea, okay?”
Charlie hurried to a drawer to pull out a pen and paper. “I’ll give you our personal number, for here in the apartment, and the number for the Lucky Goose. You should be able to reach me at one or the other.”
Harry slid the slip of paper into his back pocket. “Jill, thank you for the drink.”
“Thank you, Harry, for bringing Charlie home in one piece.”
“That was my pleasure. Well, at least part of the time. There was the occasional moment when—”
With a shove, Charlie started him on his way. She knew he was laughing, but she didn’t mind. She walked