Forget to Remember

Aiko was the name Carol had presumably used when she was a swimsuit model. Unless…unless it was Cynthia who had made the swimsuit video under an assumed name, not Carol. It made sense. If Cynthia had been known as Aiko here, that might be one reason they couldn’t trace her.
    “Do you remember her last name?”
    Melanie poured water into the cups and set tea bags on the table, along with milk and sugar. “If she used a last name, I never heard it. I only saw her once or twice. As I recall, she disappeared after Jacques died.”
    “Cynthia and Aiko may be the same person. Cynthia gave this flat as a return address in a letter to her parents.”
    “London is one of the places in the world where rootless young people come. She may not have had a permanent address.”
    “Where do these people hang out?”
    Sean had just come over to join them. Melanie repeated the question for him. He sprawled in one of the chairs, threatening to break it. “Artists and models with no money stay wherever they can. They mix and match their bodies to find food and shelter.”
    Melanie scowled at him. “That’s not helpful. The poor girl is trying to find her friend. Isn’t there a sort of commune where they live?”
    “Yeah, but it has to change its location from time to time. They keep getting booted from places.” Sean chuckled. “Not likely there’d be anyone who’d remember who was here two years ago, anyway. Wait a minute.”
    Sean put his fingers together and leaned back, staring at the skylight in the roof. Carol wondered if he were having a vision. He snapped his fingers and came back to earth.
    “When I moved in here, I met the chap who lived here after Jacques. He had known Jacques so he might have known the girl. Of course, whoever came over here looking for the girl probably already talked to him.”
    “They would have asked about Cynthia, not Aiko.” Carol thought it was worth a try. “Do you know where I can find him?”
    “He gave up being an artist and became a street performer. You might want to check out Covent Garden.”
    ***
    Carol took a bite of her McDonald’s hamburger and ate a couple of fries, which were usually called chips here. Potato chips became crisps. She felt entitled to some fast-food after surviving a morning of posing. She had warned the server about putting on too much mayonnaise, which seemed to be glopped on all sandwiches in abundant quantities. For a drink, she was having Coke and water, in rebellion against all the tea she’d consumed.
    She couldn’t remember the last name of the girl in the swimsuit video. Aiko…what? Rigo would know. It was five o’clock in the morning in California. She’d call him later. She suspected she didn’t need the last name in order to talk to Andrew, the fellow who might have known her. In London the name Aiko stood out.
    What she would like to have was Andrew’s last name. Sean didn’t remember it. Carol finished her lunch and went outside the restaurant. She found a relatively quiet spot on a side street and called Lord Binghamton’s number. A woman, probably the maid, answered the phone. Carol explained what she wanted to know. She was put on hold.
    “Carol.”
    It was Lord B. “How are you, sir?”
    “One tries to avoid answering that question when one has the aches and pains I have. The question is, how are you? Did you survive your first day as a model?”
    “Yes, it went very well.”
    “Excellent. In regard to your question, Andrew’s last name is Martin. He lived in the flat for a bit, but he couldn’t make it as an artist. He didn’t have the kind of talent Sean and Jacques have. He didn’t care for a real job, so he decided to become a street performer.”
    “Do you think he might be at Covent Garden?”
    “That’s probably the best bet. I’ve lost touch with him.”
    Carol took the tube to the Covent Garden station on the Piccadilly Line. The day had become sunny, bringing out crowds of tourists and others to watch the street performers on the flat stone surface, surrounded by unusual buildings such as the Covent Garden Market Building, now a shopping center and tourist attraction.
    Carol despaired. How would she find Andrew in this zoo? If he were performing, he’d have a schedule and a venue. She waited through the performance of a young woman who was a mime. She was in full costume with a painted face that was very expressive. She received copious laughter and applause.
    When she finished, Carol walked up to