Pearl worked at her desk with the flash drive until almost three o'clock, not even taking time for a proper lunch. She'd used a plastic fork to eat a takeout salad while exploring the world of Lilly Branston's deceptively tiny memory stick.
At first she'd been disappointed. Much of the little device's capacity was unused. What was there were mostly condo and co-op units listed with the Willman Group, sometimes entire residential buildings. The Willman Group's website was set up so a prospective buyer could take a virtual tour of the property, showing even the views out the windows. Pearl thought that if she was in the market for a million-dollar-plus apartment, she'd be in heaven-if she had a million dollars plus.
This wasn't heaven. She was a detective and would probably never see a million dollars that wasn't stolen.
Her spirits lifted when she opened a file titled 'C and C.' She soon learned the letters stood for Coffee and Conversation, and it was a matchmaking site for professionals and people with arcane interests, seeking companionship with people of the same ilk.
Not unusual in New York, where minutes moved faster than sixty seconds, and people didn't have time for the usual rituals of cultivating friends and lovers. The city had figured a faster way that suited its occupants.
C and C had a feature that distressed Pearl but must have had great appeal to its clients. Joiners posted their personal profile (photo optional) and ways to contact them-usually their e-mail addresses. There was no way for anyone else, including C and C itself, to track who had contacted whom. Clients made person-to-person contact without involving the company, which apparently made its money from advertising. Privacy was assured.
Pearl knew that the odds were good that Lilly had met her killer through C and C, but how to find him was a different matter.
She must have used screen grabs to transfer profiles to the flash drive. Lilly's e-mail history had disappeared with her computer. Her online service might have a record of it, but obtaining that was legally tricky. And there was always the possibility that she'd contacted another C and C client by phone. Maybe a public phone. Or maybe, as some of the C and C profiles suggested, anyone interested in the client could meet him or her at a certain place and time. And there was always the possibility that computers in Internet cafes were used to make initial contact. Those computers used the cafe's online service, ensuring anonymity in case extramarital lovers or pornographic sites were visited.
Pearl scrolled through the hundreds of 'Male Seeking Female' C and C profiles. Who of these hopefuls might have interested Lilly Branston? Several were in sales, as she was. There were quite a few in real estate. There were CEOs, entrepreneurs, lobbyists, artists, scientists, inheritors of wealth, educators, Broadway producers, sports figures, government bureaucrats. No cops or private investigators.
Nothing here for Pearl. Too much here for Lilly. Quite probably Pearl had just seen the real or assumed name of the Carver. Perhaps even seen his photograph. But there was no way to single him out.
Or maybe there was. Maybe in the hands of a real expert belonging to the right generation, a computer might be able to narrow the search and hit pay dirt. The NYPD had such tech-nerd wizards.
Pearl decided to check with Quinn first. If he agreed, they could turn the matter over to Renz and his NYPD. Renz could make himself useful. Take credit for the idea. And at some point return the favor.
Pearl smiled. Thinking like Addie now. Men as stepping-stones.
Addie. Pearl thought it might behoove her, and maybe Quinn, to dig deeper into Addie's past.
The information after the attempt on Addie's life in Detroit was easy enough to find, and to verify. If her attacker hadn't broken off the assault, she surely would have been killed. Then, in truly heroic fashion, she'd come back from the brutality of the attack and earned her doctorate and become a criminologist.
There was plenty of press on her, and much of it generated by Addie. She'd become a relentless self- promoter and made herself into a local talking head on TV whenever crime was the subject.
Once Addie had almost lost her life and become truly focused, there'd been no stopping her.
It was Addie Price before the attempt on her life that interested Pearl.
There was no information on her before that date.
Nothing.
Pearl had a pretty good idea why.
58
Pearl showed Quinn the C and C documents on Lilly Branston's flash drive. After Pearl copied them onto her computer, Quinn took the flash drive with him and left to deliver it to Renz for expert analysis in narrowing the considerable list of suspects.
Alone again, Pearl called Addie on her cell and suggested they have dinner at a small Afghani restaurant on Amsterdam, not far from the office.
Eastern Starr was the name of the place. It was long and narrow, and there was a vaguely astrological feel to the decor. One long wall was all dark blue tapestries with quarter moons and backlit constellations. The scent of spices wafting from the kitchen was dominated by something unfamiliar and pungent that made eyes water at the same time it stimulated appetites.
'Meat and yogurt,' Addie said, when their entries had arrived and she'd taken a taste. 'I never dreamed they could be so good together.'
'Just about everything here is good,' Pearl told her. 'Yancy introduced me to this place. He's a regular here.'
'Ah, Yancy.'
Pearl forked in a bite of her samboosak, watching how Addie obviously appreciated her food, which was made up of seasoned beef and noodles tossed in yogurt. She took a sip of Afghani wine, also surprisingly good, judging by the look on Addie's face.
'We here for another sisterly talk?' Addie asked, putting down her wine glass but not releasing its stem.
'Sort of,' Pearl said. 'I did some deeper research on you.'
Addie seemed only remotely interested. 'And?'
'Until you signed up for classes six years ago at the Metcalf Valley College of Criminology, there was no you.'
Pearl had to give Addie credit. She saw the surprise in her eyes, then the quick calculation. There was no point in denials.
'I did find an Adelaide Price,' Pearl said, 'but she died thirty years ago of rheumatic fever. She was only five years old.'
Addie pushed her food away and took a long sip of wine. 'There's something you need to understand, and I don't know if that's possible unless you're me. After I was almost killed, I was afraid every minute I was awake, and I was afraid in my sleep-what sleep I managed to get.'
'You mean Geraldine Knott was afraid,' Pearl said.
'That's true,' Addie said. 'I am-was-Geraldine Knott. When I became something of a celebrity as well as a victim, the fear suddenly became worse. It wasn't idle fear. I even received threatening letters.'
'I can understand your fear,' Pearl said. 'But the odds of being attacked by a serial killer twice are pretty slim.'
'Oh, it can happen, though in my case it didn't. In order to be safe and anonymous again, I began using the name Addie Price. I did a search through death records and found someone who was born around the same time I was and died young. I appropriated her identity, even her early childhood. I became Addie Price.'
'But why the fictitious second attack?'
'I realized that in becoming Addie Price, I'd also given up the advantages of celebrity. So when it suited my purpose, I reclaimed them. I concocted a different, fictitious attack so I could draw on my experience as Geraldine Knott for professional purposes. Some of the details were the same. The man who tried to kill me was never caught. He wore a mask, so even if I came face-to-face with him again, I wouldn't know it.'
