A male voice replied. "I must have the wrong number."

"No, wait! I'm sorry. I thought it was my wife."

"Mr. Hardy?"

"Speaking."

"Mr. Hardy, this is Oscar Thomasino."

"Your Honor, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks. Am I bothering you at an inopportune time?"

"No, but whatever, it's no bother. What can I do for you?"

"Well, admittedly this is a little unusual, but you and I have known each other for a long time, and I wondered if I could presume slightly upon our professional relationship."

This was unusual, if not to say unprecedented, but Hardy nevertheless kept his tone neutral. "Certainly, Your Honor. Anything I can do, if it's within my power." A superior court judge asking an attorney for a favor was a rare enough opportunity, and Hardy wasn't going to let it pass him by.

"Well, I'm sure it is," Thomasino said. "Did you know Charles Bowen? Charlie."

"I don't think so."

"You'd remember him. Flashy dresser, bright red hair, big beard."

"Doesn't ring a bell. He a lawyer?"

"Yes, he was, anyway. He disappeared six months ago."

"Where'd he go?"

"If I knew that, he wouldn't be disappeared, would he? He'd be someplace."

"Everybody's someplace, Your Honor. It's one of the two main rules. Everybody loves somebody sometime, and you've got to be someplace."

During the short pause that ensued, Hardy came to realize that he'd overstepped. His tendency to crack wise was going to be the end of him yet. But Thomasino eventually recovered to some extent, even reverting to his own stab at not-quite-cozy informality. "Thanks, Diz," he said. "I'll try to keep those in mind. Meanwhile, Charlie Bowen."

"Okay."

"Yes, well…the point is that he was a sole practitioner. No firm, no partners, but a reasonably robust caseload."