“Did he what?”
“Did he call Mr. Krestinski?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think he had time before he… got sick.”
“Loni, this is important. I’d like to go over everything that was said and its effect on Hudson.”
Loni glanced at Cilla out of the corner of her eye. “He didn’t hit on me or anything.”
“I know he didn’t, Loni. What I’m after is how he reacted to things you said.”
“Most men do, you know.”
“I’m sure they do. Start at the beginning. He followed you out from Olympia. Where did he catch up with you?”
“At White River. I had just let Daddy’s ashes fall into the water.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he could kill me anytime he wanted.”
Nice approach, Hudson. “Didn’t that scare you?”
“No. He said he was going to tickle me to death, and I cried.”
“Then what?”
“I told you. We talked about Mr. Cabral.”
“And that’s all? Then you went back?”
“Yes.”
“Think. There must have been something else.”
Loni sighed. “There really wasn’t. We talked about his Uncle Charles.”
“You’re sure? Hudson doesn’t have an Uncle Charles.”
“Then why did he say he did?”
“What about his Uncle?”
“He threw him in a river back East.”
“Threw...you mean his ashes?’
“Sure. I think it was just a line.”
“Could it have been the Charles River he was talking about?”
“Oh, yes! That’s what it was! He wanted to know if Daddy had asked me to put him in White River. I told him `no’. Right after that he said something I didn’t understand.”
“Do you remember what it was?”
“It sounded like, sockway seebow.”
“
“Yes! That’s what it was.”
“You’re sure?”
“You say it the same way he did. What does it mean?”
“Maybe nothing. That’s it?”
“Yeah. Then he said he had to call Mr. Krestinski, and we went back to Dora’s house cause he couldn’t call from the mountains.”
Cilla stood up. “Thanks, Loni. You’ve been a big help.”
“I have?”
Cilla nodded.
“What are you going to do?”
“What Hudson didn’t get to. Talk to John Krestinski.”
Krestinski listened attentively. “And your conclusion?”
“They’re going to do something to the rivers in New England.”
“Kind of a long leap, Cilla. Is that phrase Abenaki?”
“
“I didn’t realize Hudson spoke it.”
“Studying it. He speaks more of it than I do; you know Hudson and languages.” For a brief moment she spoke of her husband just as though their lives hadn’t been torn apart by Frank. And the Fenders. And maybe a man in a cowboy hat.
“I think putting Sturgis’ ashes in the White River made him think of what had happened in Bartlett.” A bright sun shone through the window into her eyes, but she scarcely noticed. “Wally’s cabin is right on the Saco; it takes drinking water from it.”
“And the town of Stewart is on the Connecticut River.” A spark of interest.
“Maybe the others who died in Bartlett lived on the river. That’s something we could check.”
“Yes. I don’t know whether to hope we find a relationship or not. We can’t guard every mile of river frontage in New England.” He thought a moment. “This man Cabral, foreign first name something like Gregory. Maybe Harv knows him.”
Harv didn’t, nor did Dora.
But the FBI man wasn’t through. “Can we do better than sounds like Gregory?”
Cilla went back at Loni. “Do you think the foreign sounding name was from the way your father pronounced it or from the way it was spelled?”
Loni worked hard on this. “Daddy didn’t speak any foreign languages. He didn’t even say the name of French wines the way they do in France. It all came out American.”
“So it was probably the spelling. Was it longer than Gregory? More syllables?”
“No, it was shorter.”
“Did it have an ‘ov’ sound on the end like a Russian name?”
“No, that’s not it at all.”
“Let’s try to narrow down the end. Did it end in a vowel or a consonant?”
“It was a vowel! Aren’t you smart!”
“Which vowel? Can you remember?”
Loni did hard thinking. “Oh, Cilla, I’m no good at this. I just don’t know.”
“You’re doing fine. Choose the one of these that’s closest. Gregori, Gregora, Gregoru, Gregoro, Gregore.” She pronounced each carefully, accenting the last syllable in each case.
“Gregoro! That’s real close. Maybe a little too long.”
“Grego?”
“Yes! That’s it! At least I think so.”
With this somewhat less than positive identification, Cilla went back to Krestinski, who called Washington. Ten minutes later the FBI man produced the first smile of the day.
“Got him! Grecco Cabral. Forty-two, five foot ten, one-eighty. Was in the U.S. Army. Retired four years ago as a sergeant. Home address when he enlisted was Fall River, Massachusetts.”
“Do they know where Cabral is now?”
“No, but we have photos, fingerprints, the works. I’m flying back to Boston.”
“I’m going with you.”
The agent looked at her curiously. “Why do you want to come back east? Hudson is...”
“Here someplace,” she finished. “But the only one who knows where he is, is Frank, and Frank is headed back there. You find Cabral, you find Frank.” Then in a soft voice, “And I find Hudson.”
“I can’t let you fly with me, Cilla. It’s a military plane.”
“So I’ll enlist. John, you owe me. Us. Hudson and myself.”
“Cilla, I...”
“If you had gotten this information from Loni earlier, Hudson wouldn’t...be missing. He did, and now you’ve a chance to help him and avert a crisis Don’t you think that’s worth a plane ride?”
“If it were up to me, Cilla. But it isn’t. I...”
“Where’s the phone?”
“In the lieutenant’s office. Who...?”
“A man I met at Great Haystack. He told me to call him if I ever needed anything. He’s only the governor of a small state, but I’m told he’s on friendly terms with the White House.”
“Governor Ducharme? You’re going to call him for a plane ride...?”
