Nope.
YREWOL.
I took the initials JCR and converted them to number positions within the alphabet. 100318. Flipped the sequence. 813001. Reversed the initials to RCJ. 180310. Flipped that. 013081.
Still the little cursor defied me.
Picturing a phone, I tried the digits associated with the letters LOWERY, 569379.
I was in.
When the computer was fully booted, I checked a fan-shaped icon on the far right of the toolbar. Three stripes. I clicked on it.
“He pirated signal from the neighbors.” I pointed to a network code name. Fife.
“Can he do that?”
“The Fifes probably use their phone number as their password. A lot of folks do. Laurier knew or looked it up. Or maybe he asked permission. Anyway, once the password is entered, the computer remembers and automatically selects that network. The Fifes can’t be far away. The signal’s weak but sufficient.”
As Ryan jotted the name
Standard Mac stuff. Numbers. Mail. Safari. iCal.
Laurier/Lowery had stored no spreadsheets or documents. He’d entered no contacts into the address book, no appointments into the calendar.
“He didn’t use e-mail,” I said. “Or iTunes, iPhoto, iMovie, iDVD.”
“I see.”
Another eye roll. “Let’s check what he found amusing on the net.”
I launched Safari and pulled up the browsing history.
In the past two weeks the user had researched mulch and fertilizer, corn hybrids, scuba diving, hypoxia, poison ivy, copper wire, roofing tiles, North American squirrels, Quebec dentists, and a variety of vitamins.
“A site called robesoniandotcom was visited six times,” I said.
Ryan leaned close. He smelled of male sweat and a “Don’t worry, be happy, mon” cologne. Bay rum, I think.
The flaxen-haired maiden felt a tingle in her southern parts. She managed to stay focused.
Robesonian.com was an online newspaper for Lumberton, the county seat of Robeson County, North Carolina.
“Hot damn,” Ryan said, close to my ear.
Back to the surfing log. In moments I’d spotted additional telling activity.
Laurier/Lowery had visited dozens of sites designed for and by American draft dodgers of the Vietnam era. CBC archive pieces. Coverage of a 2006 draft dodger reunion in Vancouver. A site devoted to an exile community in Toronto. A University of British Columbia page titled Vietnam War Resisters in Canada.
“That nails it.” Ryan straightened. “Lowery left Lumberton for Canada to avoid service in Vietnam. He’s been living the straight life as Jean Laurier ever since.”
“Straight except for one quirk.” I indicated several Web addresses. Love Yourself and Tell. Hard Soloing. Ramrod’s Self-Bondage Page.
“Pick one,” I said.
Ryan pointed.
Ramrod’s blog featured two stories.
A Baptist minister was found dead, alone in his Arkansas home, wearing a wet suit, face mask, diving gloves, and slippers. Underneath the outerwear were a second rubberized suit with suspenders, rubberized male underwear, and bondage gear constructed of nylon and leather. The reverend’s anus featured a condom-covered dildo.
A Kansas plumber hanged himself from a showerhead with his wife’s leather belt. The gentleman survived to tell the tale. In vivid detail.
Ramrod’s home page had a colorful sidebar encouraging visitors into his chat room. Ryan and I declined the invitation.
Shutting down the computer, I began casually rummaging in the desk. What more did we need? Jean Laurier of Hemmingford, Quebec, was clearly John Charles Lowery, a Vietnam draft dodger from Lumberton, North Carolina.
The top drawer was a jumble of rubber bands, paper clips, tape, pens, and pencils. The upper side drawer held lined tablets, envelopes, and two pairs of drugstore reading glasses.
I could hear Ryan behind me, lifting couch pillows and opening cabinets.
The lower side drawer contained computer paraphernalia, including headphones, keyboard brushes, cables, and AC adapter plugs. In closing it, I jostled a white corner into view from below a mouse pad.
Lifting the pad, I discovered a four-by-six white rectangle. On it were written a name and date.
