Just One Look

“Yes. He was very nice.”

Right. “You told him that Rocky hadn’t come home from work.”

She nodded.

“You called in the early morning. You said he’d been working the night before.”

“That’s right.”

“Did he work a night shift at the plant?”

“No. He’d taken a second job.” She squirmed a little. “It was off the books.”

“Doing what?”

“He worked for this lady.”

“Doing what?”

She used one finger to wipe a tear. “Rocky didn’t talk about it much. He delivered subpoenas, I think, stuff like that.”

“Do you know the lady’s name?”

“Something foreign. I can’t pronounce it.”

Perlmutter did not need to think about it long. “Indira Khariwalla?”

“That’s it.” Lorraine Conwell looked up at him. “You know her?”

He did. It had been a long time, but yes, Perlmutter knew her very well.

• • •

Grace had handed Scott Duncan the photograph, the one with all five people in it. He could not stop staring, especially at the image of his sister. He ran his finger over her face. Grace could barely look at him.

They were back at Grace’s house now, sitting in the kitchen. They had been talking for the better part of half an hour.

“You got this two days ago?” Scott Duncan asked.

“Yes.”

“And then your husband… He’s this one, right?” Scott Duncan pointed to Jack’s image.

“Yes.”

“He ran off?”

“He vanished,” she said. “He didn’t run off.”

“Right. You think he was, what, kidnapped?”

“I don’t know what happened to him. I only know he’s in trouble.”

Scott Duncan’s eyes stayed on the old photograph. “Because he gave you some kind of warning? Something about needing space?”

“Mr. Duncan, I’d like to know how you came across this picture. And how you found me, for that matter.”

“You sent it out via some kind of spam. Someone recognized the picture and forwarded it to me. I traced back the spammer and put a little pressure on him.”

“Was that why we didn’t receive any answers?”

Duncan nodded. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

“I’ve told you everything I know. I was on my way to confront the guy in the Photomat when you showed up.”

“We’ll question him, don’t worry about that.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the picture. She had done all the talking. He had told her nothing, except that the woman in the photograph was his sister. Grace pointed at the crossed-out face. “Tell me about her,” she said.

“Her name was Geri. Does her name mean anything to you?”

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t.”

“Your husband never mentioned her? Geri Duncan.”

“Not that I remember.” Then: “You said was.”

“What?”

“You said was. Her name was Geri.”

Scott Duncan nodded. “She died in a fire when she was twenty-one years old. In her dorm room.”

Grace froze. “She went to Tufts, right?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

Now it made sense-why the girl’s face had seemed familiar. Grace hadn’t known her, but there had been pictures in the newspapers at the time. Grace had been undergoing physical therapy and ripping through way too many periodicals. “I remember reading about it. Wasn’t it an accident? Electrical fire or something?”

“That was what I thought. Until three months ago.”

“What changed?”

“The U.S. attorney’s office captured a man who goes by the name Monte Scanlon. He’s a hired assassin. His job was to make it look like an accident.”

Grace tried to take it in. “And you just learned this three months ago?”

“Yes.”

“Did you investigate?”

“I’m still investigating, but it’s been a long time.” His voice was softer now. “Not many clues after all these years.”

Grace turned away.

“I found out that Geri was dating a boy at the time, a local kid named Shane Alworth. The name mean anything to you?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Shane Alworth had a rap sheet, nothing serious, but I checked him out.”

“And?”

“And he’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“No sign of him. I can’t find work records for him. I can’t find any sign of a Shane Alworth on the tax payroll. I can’t find any hit on his social security number.”

“For how long?”

“How long has he been gone?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve gone back ten years. Nothing.” Duncan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out another photograph. He handed it to Grace. “Recognize him?”

She took a long look at the photograph. No question about it. It was the other guy in her photograph. She looked up at him for confirmation. Duncan nodded.

“Creepy, huh?”

“Where did you get this?” she asked.

“From Shane Alworth’s mother. She claims her son lives in a small town in Mexico. That he’s a missionary or something and that’s why his name doesn’t pop up. Shane also has a brother who lives in St. Louis. Works as a psychologist. He backs up what the mother said.”

“But you don’t buy it.”

“Do you?”

Grace put the mystery photograph on the table. “So we know about three people in this photograph,” she said, more to herself than Duncan. “We have your sister, who was murdered. We have her boyfriend, Shane Alworth, the guy over here. He’s missing. We have my husband, who disappeared right after seeing this photograph. That about right?”

“Pretty much.”

“What else did the mother say?”

“Shane was unreachable. He was in the Amazon jungle, she thought.”

“The Amazon jungle? In Mexico?”

“Her geography was fuzzy.”

Grace shook her head and pointed at the picture. “So that leaves the other two women. Any clue who they are?”

“No, not yet. But we know more now. The redhead, we should get a bead on her pretty soon. The other one, the one with her back to the camera, I don’t know if we’ll ever know.”

“Did you learn anything else?”

“Not really. I’ve had Geri’s body exhumed. That took some time to arrange. A full autopsy is being done, see if they can find any physical evidence, but it’s a long shot. This”-he held up the picture from the Web-“this is the first real lead I’ve had.”

She didn’t like the pitch of hope in his voice. “It might just be a picture,” she said.

“You don’t believe that.”

Grace put her hands on the table. “Do you think my husband had something to do with your sister’s death?”