“That sucks,” Rafferty said as he set four cups of coffee on the table beside the cream and sugar.
“At least we know where they came from,” Talbot said.
“As if there were any doubt,” Alice pulled a cup toward her and slid another toward Talbot. “You wanted to talk to me about something, Lord High Constable?”
Talbot looked uncomfortable and glanced at Geri and Rafferty.
“I assure you, I have no secrets from either Geraldine or Constable Rafferty, Lord High Constable. You may speak freely.”
Talbot took a deep breath. “Okay, Sister. I don’t know that anyone else would notice this, but I thought I’d point it out and let you decide what to do with it.”
“Very well.” Alice sipped her coffee.
“When we had you in custody, one of the things my team did was inventory your belongings and photocopy all your documents—passport, driver’s license and all that. We also obtained a copy of the Philadelphia PD file.”
Alice nodded.
Geri started the dishwasher running and pulled up a seat at the table. “That’d pretty much be standard procedure, wouldn’t it?” she asked.
Talbot nodded. “Exactly. I have to admit, I didn’t look at them until this afternoon, after you had been released.” He slid a paper out of the file in front of him and laid it on the table in front of Alice. “So, your passport.” He pointed to the corner of the photocopied image. “Your signature.”
Alice leaned forward and peered at the photocopy. “Quite correct.”
Talbot placed a second photocopy on top of the first, leaving Alice’s signature exposed. “Your driver’s license—also with your signature.”
“And the waiver you signed the night Philadelphia PD arrested you.” Talbot tapped her signature. “That’s the most important one. It’s the most recent.”
Alice looked at the matching signatures. “Yes, those are my signatures. I’m not sure I understand, Lord High Constable.”
“I’ll get to that in a second. Your signature is very distinctive. Notice the back sweep on the ‘A’ in ‘Alice’ and the ‘F’ in ‘Fisher’? There’s also a significant up sweep at the end of the ‘R’ in ‘Fisher’.”
Alice sat back. “The result of so many lessons in penmanship, I suppose.”
Talbot watched her carefully as he pulled another photocopy from the folder. “We also found this photograph in a hidden compartment in your bag.”
He laid the photocopy down, still leaving her signatures exposed. It was the same photograph as the one on Rachel’s office wall. Four large soldiers with one very small nun. “Can you get that photograph for me?”
Alice furrowed her brow. “Certainly. Just a moment.”
Alice got the photo from her handbag and laid it on the table.
Talbot reached and turned the photo over, exposing the signatures on the back. One of them was Alice’s.
Alice stared at him. “So, my signature is on the back of a photograph and it matches the signatures on my passport and driver’s license. I still don’t understand.”
Talbot continued to watch her. “Can you read me the other signatures, please?
Alice’s eyes went wide. “The other signatures?”
Talbot nodded.
Alice peered at the back of the photo. “R. Silverthorne, K. Boreen, Eddie Marsh, and George—” Alice stiffened and looked from Rafferty to Geri and back to the Lord High Constable. “Talbot,” she finished.
The whirring and clunking of the dishwasher momentarily dominated the conversation. None of them moved.
Alice realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out. She glanced at her signature on the back of her photo, beside the signature of George Talbot.
“So what?” Rafferty said. “You gonna arrest her because some guy signed the back of a picture with the same last name as you? There’s lots of people with the last name ‘Talbot’.”
Talbot held up his hands. “Easy. I’m not here to arrest anyone.”
“Why are you here, then?” Geri asked.
Talbot shrugged. “Wouldn’t take much, if someone got curious, to date that photo and the signature. It could raise serious questions, especially with your current signature matching the one on the photo. After what I witnessed earlier today, with your shoulder, I have no doubt. You are the nun in that photo.”
Rafferty gaped. “Oh, come on, Talbot! That picture’s from World War One!” He held his hand out to Alice. “You’re talking crazy.”
Talbot stared at Alice as she looked up at him. Slowly, a look of resignation on his face, he reached into the folder and gently laid a matching photo beside Alice’s copy. The only difference was a coffee ring on the bottom right-hand corner of Talbot’s.
Alice’s gaze flicked from the matching photo to Talbot.
“Turn it over,” he murmured.
“No need,” Alice said. “We all signed them.”
Geri and Rafferty gasped. Talbot nodded gravely.
“Was George your grandfather?” Alice asked.
He shook his head. “He is my great-grandfather, actually.”
Alice glared at him. “Is?”
Rafferty sat forward. “He’s still alive? He must be—”
“Just had his one hundred and twenty-second birthday,” Talbot said.
Geri’s eyes went wide. “A hundred and twenty-two? Wow! What’s his quality of life?”
“Well, he won’t be winning any fifty-yard dashes, but he’s...spry, for his age.”
Excitement coursing through Alice’s veins. “Does he live nearby? Could I visit him?”
Talbot smiled. “Funny you should mention that.”
The doorbell rang.
“Mind if I get that?” Talbot stood and moved into the living room. Geri and Rafferty followed him.
Alice’s heart swelled. She sat frozen in her chair and listened to the door open.
“Grampa George!” Talbot enthused. “Come in. There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”
Alice heard shuffling.
“Easy, Grampa. You don’t want to fall,” Talbot said.
A quavering, high-pitched voice said, “I know, I know. I’m not an idjit, y’know.”
“Mr. Talbot, I’m Geri Rafferty. This is my husband, Martin.” Geri’s voice was warm and welcoming.
Grampa George grunted. “Don’t actually remember either one of ya, so, nice ta meetcha and all that. But you call me ‘George’, huh?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not us you’re here to see, George. Alice?” Geri raised her voice.
“Don’t know no ‘Alice’,” George said in his quavery voice.
Alice took a deep breath, stood and moved into the living room, her
