was one entry. Grant Bacon, Richmond, Virginia, died in a boating accident in 1998. He was survived by his wife, Kathy Delancy Bacon, and two sons from a previous marriage. Diane printed out the obituary and faxed it to the marshals as well.
She then called Ross Kingsley.
‘‘I have a name for you,’’ she said when he answered.
‘‘For Clymene?’’ he asked.
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘I knew you could do it. Tell me,’’ he said.
The excitement in his voice was electric. Diane was surprised her ears didn’t crackle.
‘‘It’s probably one of her aliases,’’ said Diane. ‘‘It could be one of the sisters. The name is Kathy Delancy Bacon. She was married to a Grant Bacon. I have a picture of the two of them at a banquet for lawyers. Give me your fax number and I’ll send you what we’ve found.’’
He gave her a number. ‘‘Did you look up the husband?’’ he asked, more soberly.
‘‘I’m sending you his obituary also,’’ said Diane.
Kingsley sighed. ‘‘How did he die?’’
‘‘Boating accident. There are no details,’’ she said.
‘‘I can look them up. Diane, this is great. I am amazed,’’ he said.
‘‘Frankly, so am I. The marshals are checking it out. There are other people in the picture too.’’ She told him about Emma Lorimer.
‘‘Now, that’s interesting. She denied knowing her, yet she actually called to defend her. I think I need to speak with this woman myself. I’m really interested in the way Clymene gets under people’s skin. When was this?’’
‘‘The picture is from 1997. He died in 1998,’’ she said. Diane entered Kingsley’s number in the fax machine and sent the pages through again.
‘‘The woman is still loyal after ten years. Where is this?’’ he asked.
‘‘Richmond, Virginia,’’ she said.
‘‘Richmond. If Clymene’s from that region, perhaps she has some lingering accent. The prison didn’t have a tape of her voice; we’re still looking. I have a linguist named Marley working on her journal entries. Maybe he will be able to find something in her writing. Of course, you’re moving so fast it may turn out there is no need for the linguist. How did you find this information?’’ he asked.
Diane had been dreading that question. ‘‘Just Internet searches,’’ she said.
‘‘This is a good lead. It’s a good thing Lorimer called. It was an excellent idea to send out those pictures and e-mails to the lawyer lists. I’d be willing to bet you’ll get some more hits before the day is through.’’
He assumed that she had looked up Emma Lorimer on the Web and happily found Clymene, thought Diane. Good. She didn’t like keeping the truth to herself, but David would absolutely freak out if she told the FBI about Arachnid.
Diane looked at her watch. She was hungry but it wasn’t even close to lunchtime; then she realized she hadn’t eaten breakfast. She was about to get up and go to the staff lounge for a snack when Jin knocked on her door and peeked in.
Chapter 41
‘‘Jin,’’ said Diane. ‘‘More news?’’
They had so many feelers out now that information should begin flowing in. It was the first time she had actually felt optimistic about finding Clymene. It was true what she had said to Jin earlier; Clymene didn’t have a chance. Diane waved a hand to the chair in front of her desk. Jin bopped into her office and threw himself into the stuffed chair.
‘‘You know, Boss, that spider program of David’s is something. Why is he keeping it hidden? I mean, besides the fact that he probably thinks the men in black will come get him.’’
‘‘I think it offends his root sensibilities. He believes the Internet should respect people’s privacy. When users post photographs it’s for people to look at and not to exploit in any way.’’
‘‘We didn’t exploit; we just looked for Clymene. It would have been the same if we did it manually. It would just take years. David’s funny sometimes, have you ever noticed that?’’
‘‘Occasionally,’’ said Diane, smiling. ‘‘Did you come in for a reason or are you just wandering around the building?’’
‘‘Oh, yeah, sure. This is good. We’re finding so much good stuff, looking for Clymene’s starting to get fun. The blood on the bedframe in apartment 1-D in your former apartment house belongs to Clymene Red,’’ he said.
‘‘Clymene Red?’’
‘‘Yeah, remember the Christmas trees? There’s Clymene Prime—she’s the murderer. And there’s Clymene Red and Clymene Blue, the two sisters I named after the colors of the ornaments.’’
Diane nodded. ‘‘Okay. So the blood on the bed is one of the sisters,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Yes,’’ said Jin. ‘‘But the epithelials in the IV needle we found belong to Clymene Blue, the other sister.’’
It gave Diane a chill to think they were living just a floor below her all that time and she didn’t know it. She wondered how long Clymene had been planning her escape.
‘‘Good work,’’ she said. ‘‘Did you find anything else in the apartment?’’
‘‘No, and David vacuumed the place good. You know how he is. The three Clymenes washed that place down with bleach before they left. They missed the blood on the bed, and we almost did too. It had dripped and run under the frame. The needle was caught in the corner between the floorboards. Lucky for us, they just didn’t see it. Clymene and company are not perfect,’’ said Jin.
‘‘Any sign of the young male who was with them?’’ asked Diane.
