We decided to take up Domenic’s offer of [free] dinner. While we were waiting for Sven to bring us Campari and sodas to start the evening—all drinks and courses chosen by Sven—Paul Draek returned my two voicemail messages.
While we’d been getting ready to head to the restaurant, we’d discussed what we’d learned and how we might help find Emile, and it had dawned on us that maybe Paul had heard something in the background when Emile had called and he might merely need a nudge or three. It was worth a shot or three.
“Sorry. I couldn’t get back sooner. I was closing up a case we’d been working on,” the New Englander said, regret and weariness in his voice.
“All’s good?” I asked.
“All’s good, considering. I take it you haven’t heard anything about Emile, or you’d have said something in you
