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given me The Look but I didn’t care. I’d never been into dieting.
    I passed on my ten-dollar bill and tried not to actually drool over the plate Bill the Hotdog Man shoved at me. I was glad my suave mystery man wasn’t here now to see my eyes bugging out over a couple buns stuffed with chili.
    Struck by a sudden thought, I said, “Hey Bill, what do you do when you don’t know who you are?”
    Bill paused in slapping relish over a hotdog and squinted at me. It wasn’t particularly sunny out, but Bill always squinted.
    “What d’ya mean?” he asked. “You feelin’ sick or something?”
    “No, not me. But let’s say I have a friend who’s been in an accident and claims he doesn’t remember his name anymore or where he comes from.”
    Bill snorted. “Sounds like somebody’s been watchin’ too much daytime TV. Is this guy on the level?”
    “That’s what I want to find out.”
    “So I’m guessing you don’t know who he is either?”
    “Not exactly, no. And,” I hastened to add, “I’m not in any hurry to drag too many people in on this in case…” In case what? In case he’s making up this whole thing and I wind up looking like a major idiot?
    The hotdog man shrugged. “Guess the easiest way would be to check out a missing persons list. See if anyone meeting your guy’s description has turned up missing around here.”
    There was an idea. At least it’d be one way to satisfy my nagging curiosity without becoming too involved.
    I nodded. “Thanks a lot, Bill. I’ll give it a try.”
    I took my lunch into the park and found a lonely bench under the trees. Of course, in the city it was impossible to be really alone with the noisy streets and towering buildings only a short distance away. But at least none of the strangers walking, rollerblading, or riding their bikes past paid me much attention. Laughing children played on the grass nearby and old people walked past, leading their dogs on leashes. Couples strolled by hand in hand.
    People-watching as I wolfed down my lunch, I indulged in a brief moment of self-pity because I seemed to be the only one alone today. I distracted myself by thinking of my mystery man. Was he for real? What reason could he possibly have for inventing a ridiculous story about losing his memory for me, a total stranger? Had it all been some sort of joke?
    But no matter how I argued it, I just couldn’t convince myself he was intentionally lying. There had been something so sincere about him. He might have some pretty inflated ideas about himself but there was still a sort of old-fashioned honesty to him. Like he came from someplace where you could take people at their word and they didn’t pull crap on you.
    I shook my head at my thoughts. I was over-romanticizing this guy. There was only one thing for it. I was going to have to find out the truth. I thought about Bill’s advice. Where could I obtain a missing persons list?

    ***

    A half hour later, I plopped down into a creaky seat behind a computer at the public library. If I had learned anything it was that when stumped with the ultimate puzzle there was always one force to turn to—the awesome power of the internet. And since my laptop was fried and Carlita didn’t own one, I had to rely on the charity of the good folks at Pratt’s Central Library.
    I tried not to hold my breath as I waited to see what information the search engine came up with. When the results did show, they were disappointing. My search was too broad, I decided. I needed to narrow it down.

    ***

    When I returned to the apartment that evening my heart felt so heavy it might as well have been a brick thumping away in my chest. A whole afternoon spent on my fruitless research and pretty much all I had discovered was that if my mystery man really was a missing person, no one seemed interested in finding him.
    I was tired and frustrated and my feet were killing me after an entire day in heels. I kicked the shoes off inside the door of the