“Can you tell me why a little boy would be afraid of your sister?”
“No!” Neither a negative response nor a denial, but a cry of anguish. “No, no, no!”
“He has a fractured arm, bruises-”
“Don’t tell me; I don’t want to hear it!” She heaved to her feet, stood spraddle legged with her hands in front of her, palms outward, as if warding off an attack. Her gaze was back on the crucifix. “O Jesus, look down in mercy. Forgive our sins, forgive those who have sinned against us.”
“Francine hurt you and Tracy, didn’t she? When you were growing up.”
Violent headshake.
“Please tell me. I need to know.”
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour-”
“For the boy’s sake. To keep him from being hurt anymore.”
She backed up, still shaking her head. Stumbled against a corner of the couch and staggered off-balance- would have fallen if Runyon hadn’t come up fast out of his chair and caught her arm to steady her. There was a gathering hysteria in her face, the whites of her eyes showing. She wrenched free of him, cringing, as if his touch terrified her.
“You have to leave now. You have to leave. Go away, go away, go away! ”
There was nothing he could do but comply. And in a hurry. If he’d lingered, he felt sure she would have started screaming.
8
I was home watching a Discovery Channel special on sea otters with Emily when Tamara called on my cell. Not the Seriously Adult Tamara this time, Furious Tamara, one I’d only met a few times, and glad of it. Spitting so much fire I could almost feel the blistering heat coming over the phone wire.
It took a few seconds to straighten out what she was saying. “R. L. McManus isn’t Virden’s ex-wife? That’s what he told you?”
“Claimed we made a mistake. Said we were incompetent. Said he was stopping payment on his checks and taking his business to another agency.”
“What’d you say to him?”
“Not what I felt like saying. Told him I hadn’t made a mistake, has to be another explanation, but the man wouldn’t listen. Said he ought to know his ex when he saw her, even after eight years, and hung up on me.”
“Can’t argue with that. The part about him knowing his ex when he saw her-”
“Don’t you start telling me I screwed up.”
“I wasn’t going to. You don’t make that kind of mistake.”
“Damn straight I don’t. Not on a simple trace, not on any trace with as much starter info as that dude handed you. Just to make sure, I double-checked. Everything says R. L. McManus is Virden’s first wife.”
I thought back to the few minutes I’d spent with the woman. “I asked her if she was Roxanne Lorraine McManus and she didn’t deny it, just said she preferred to use her initials. She didn’t deny Virden was her ex- husband, either… though come to think of it, she didn’t offer any confirmation.”
“Can’t be two women with that name, or I’d’ve turned it up. And Virden wouldn’t have any reason to lie, right? He says she’s not his ex, then she’s not.”
“Despite the resemblance. Right.”
“Well, then? Tell you the same thing it tells me?”
“Identity theft,” I said.
“Yeah. Whoever that Canine Customers bitch is, she’s passing as the real Roxanne McManus and has been for the past seven years.”
I’d taken the phone out into the kitchen; I made two passes back and forth, thinking it out. Identity theft is a huge crime problem these days, with staggering numbers of victims nationwide-something like twelve million the previous year and that number rising annually by double-digit percentage points. Most of the cases were low-tech and committed for quick profit, but there were plenty of incidents of individuals whose entire lives had been taken over-and sometimes ended-by identity thieves. Only a few of the cases we’d handled to date had involved that type of scam, none of them major, but I knew someone who’d had a hellish personal experience with one-Sharon McCone, good friend and fellow investigator, in a high-profile case a few years back.
I said, “The real McManus was last seen in Blodgett, before she moved away to go into business with a friend she’d just met. You turn up anything along those lines?”
“Nothing. So maybe the friend’s the look-alike thief?”
“Maybe. If it was a woman.”
“Well, whoever the impostor is, she must’ve done away with the real McManus. Nobody falls off the radar for seven years if they’re still aboveground.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I said. “Could be a case of swapped identities. That kind of thing happens now and then.”
“Yeah, well, what do we do now? Can’t just let it slide.”
“See what you can find out about the other woman at Canine Customers, Jane Carson. We owe the client that much follow-up.”
“Not if he stops payment on his checks we don’t.”
“I’ll try to talk him out of that. Once he understands we’re not at fault, he may be more reasonable.”
“Wouldn’t bet on it. Probably hang up on you like he did on me.”
“One step at a time. Or don’t you want to run the Carson check?”
“Sure I do. Won’t do our rep any good unless we find out what’s going on here.”
“Okay then.”
“And when we do find out? Notify the law?”
“Not our call without definite proof of fraud. Up to Virden if he wants to pursue it.”
“Better get in touch with him right away,” she said, “let him know what we suspect. And don’t forget about his stop-payment threat.”
“Yes, boss.”
That got me a sardonic little chuckle. Furious Tamara was all through venting; Seriously Adult Tamara was back in the saddle. “I’ll be in the office awhile, you want to call me back.”
“As soon as I talk to Virden,” I said.
Only I didn’t talk to Virden. My call to his cell went straight to voice mail. I left an urgent call-back message, but it didn’t get returned.
Tamara had another surprise for me when I walked into the agency Wednesday morning. She came out of her office while I was shedding my overcoat and said without preamble, “This McManus thing gets weirder and weirder. Far as I can find out, the other woman doesn’t exist.”
“What other woman?”
“Jane Carson. City business license for Canine Customers lists R. L. McManus as sole owner and operator, no employees. Real estate outfit that handles the lease doesn’t have any record of a Jane Carson living at the Twentieth Street address, and neither does any other source.”
“So she could be living somewhere else.”
“Uh-uh. Lot of Jane Carsons in the city and the Bay Area, and none of ’em match.”
“Could be she recently moved here from out of state, hasn’t been here long enough to trace.”
“That’d make her a new hire then, right?”
“Or a new roomer. McManus rents out rooms, with or without the property owner’s knowledge and permission; there’s a sign on the fence in front.”
“Carson’s not either one,” Tamara said. “You told me she handled that Rottweiler like a pro. Can’t just walk in off the street and take over handling a big trained watchdog. Takes time, plenty of patience. Woman has to’ve been working or living there for weeks, if not months.”
