In the photograph, Marvin’s father was holding the little blond boy upside down by the ankles. The father had a little smile. The boy was grinning.

“Turn the album upside down,” Marvin said, turning the album. “See, now I look right side up and my father looks upside down.”

“You’re right,” I said, turning the album around again.

“Marvin, what…?”

“Keep looking, Mr. Fonseca. Keep looking,” he urged, turning the page.

“Fonesca,” I corrected.

“Yeah, oh, sorry. My name’s Uliaks.”

“I know,” I said, looking at several pages of photographs that meant nothing to me.

“I went to your office,” Marvin said. “You weren’t there. I went to Gwen’s. You weren’t there either. I went…”

“You found me,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, shaking his head once with pride.

“Why?” I reached for my beer.

“I want you to find Vera Lynn.”

“You want me to find your sister,” I said, putting the beer down. “I’m a process server. I find people to give them orders to appear at court or in a lawyer’s office for a deposition, or to produce documents. I’m not a private investigator.”

“You find people,” Marvin said. “I heard. Old guy at Gwen’s told me.”

“A few times,” I said. “A few times I found some people.”

“There, there she is,” he said, tapping on a photograph on the page I had just turned to. He was tapping on the color photograph of a very pretty and very well sculptured blonde in a blue dress. The girl was smiling. Her teeth looked white and perfect. I guessed she was no more than eighteen. Another girl about the same age stood next to the blonde. She was pretty, thin, wearing a red dress and no smile.

“Who’s the other one?”

Marvin craned his neck awkwardly to get a better view at the photograph with a look of amazement as if he were seeing it for the first time.

“Sarah,” he said. “She’s been dead a long time. I need to find Vera Lynn.”