Frank. “Will you be able to use DNA to tell if Harmon killed O’Connor’s sister, too?”
“Possibly,” Frank said. “I have to take a closer look at the evidence we gathered at the time, and how it has been stored. We had a good lab man back then. I’m told our coroner-this was before Woolsey-was a big believer in freezing tissue samples and the like, so if no one has dumped them out of the freezer at some point along the way, we may be in luck. But I’m not getting my hopes up just yet.”
“Can Ben Sheridan help in a case like this?” I asked.
“He might. He’s been called in on the investigation into Municipal Cemetery-they’re digging up a lot of graves over there trying to straighten out who belongs where, so he’s been really busy with that. But we’re going to have him take a look at the photos, see if he thinks it’s worth exhuming the girls’ remains.” He turned to Max. “Have you met Ben?”
“Not yet. He’s your forensic anthropologist friend, right? The one who stayed here with his dog for a while?”
“Yes. A good friend, and good at his work, too. He’s agreed to come by tomorrow and take a look at the photos.”
“Any idea why Harmon is so adamant that he didn’t kill her?”
Frank hesitated. “I can’t back this up with proof yet, but I think he’s so adamant because he didn’t do it. I’m beginning to think he’s telling the truth.”
“What?”
“I’m not the first to see that there are differences in the way the bodies were left, or what had been done to them. Dan Norton, the detective who worked on the case in the 1950s, left a lot of notes on this one, and he had the same feeling I do-he thought it was possible that someone else had killed Maureen.”
“But the timing-in April, every two years,” I said. “And what you’re saying would mean that the person who killed Maureen knew those other girls were buried there and never told anyone.”
“Believe me, I see the problems.”
“I don’t know,” Max said. “The best place to hide a body must be a grave. Think of that story in this morning’s paper.”
Frank laughed. “Don’t mention that story to Irene.”
I told Max about Ethan.
Max shrugged. “He still had to do a lot of work in order to write the story, though, didn’t he?”
“Yes. But it isn’t cool to do what he did to Hailey.”
“I can see that,” he said. He looked at Frank. “Actually, I have an interest in the contents of a grave, too. I hope you might be able to help me.”
“One of these ones in Municipal Cemetery?”
“No, in All Souls. The Ducanes are buried there.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
He shifted a little, then said, “Gisella’s family has…expressed concern about my parentage.”
“What? In this day and age?” I said, outraged. “Are they ‘Granny came over on the Mayflower’ types?”
“No, no, I’m sure that’s not it,” he said, not sounding all that sure to me. “What they said to me was, well, if we want to have children…it’s a legitimate concern.”
“A legitimacy concern, maybe?”
“Maybe,” he admitted with a sigh. “They say they are worried that without knowing my parentage, there may be hereditary diseases I could pass on to our children.”
“And?” I asked, sensing that wasn’t all there was to it.
He spoke softly when he answered. “They also say that if our children are indeed the great-grandchildren of the Vanderveers and Linworths, they should know their heritage.”
After a moment, I said, “And take Grandmother Lillian Linworth’s inheritance?”
“I’ve told them there can be no need, given my own situation. I can already provide more than enough financial security for any children we may have.”
“And they said, ‘You can never be too rich or too thin.’”
He smiled. “Something like that. I pointed out that Lillian would not be obliged to leave a dime to me, even if we are related. She may decide to leave her money to her pet cat for all I know.”
“But Gisella’s parents don’t think the cat would be a contender if you could be proved to be the missing heir.”
“Look, it’s just what her parents hold dear. They can trace both sides of each family back to-I don’t know, Stonehenge, probably-and I don’t know what my own birth name is, let alone my parents’ names. Gisella tells me not to worry about it. But I don’t really have a family, and I guess I don’t want to start out by causing division within hers.”
I finally caught on. “This isn’t about the Ross family, is it? You can finally answer a question that you’ve had on your mind for the last twenty years.”
For a moment he looked stricken. Then he let out a long sigh.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s it.” He laughed. “I just needed to talk to a friend who would be brutally honest, who could make me own up to it.”
“Was I brutal? I’m sorry.”
“No. Not at all.”
“How do you think I can help you?” Frank asked.
“As I understand it, there are DNA tests now that could be done on remains as old as Katy and Todd Ducane’s.”
“As old as Egyptian mummies-and older. Remains from the 1950s won’t be a problem. But if you’re thinking that we need to exhume Katy Ducane to find out if she was your mother, we don’t. Lillian could give a private lab a small blood sample, and you could know the answer in a matter of weeks.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. “The problem is, Lillian won’t do it.”
“Won’t do it! Why not?” I asked.
“She says that she loves me as I am, doesn’t care who I once was or where I came from, and that all this talk of biological ties is insulting nonsense. She’s furious with the Ross family for bringing the matter up. I won’t repeat what she has to say about them. She became very upset. I have to admit that I was surprised at the vehemence of her reaction.”
Frank and I exchanged a look.
“What?” Max asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Just a feeling, I suppose. Her reaction makes me wonder what she’s afraid of. All these years, not knowing what became of her grandson…”
“If the DNA tests show that they aren’t related,” Frank said, “she may fear that Max will no longer care about her.”
I looked at Max. He shrugged. “It’s the only explanation I’ve been able to come up with myself. To be honest, if that’s the case, it’s kind of insulting. It’s as if she’s saying she stood by me and took me under her wing when she had no real proof that we were related-if anything, proof that we weren’t. But I’m supposedly so shallow, I’ll stop caring for her if she’s not my biological grandmother.”
“No other Linworth or Ducane relatives?” Frank asked.
“Warren Ducane,” I said. “If you can find him.”
“Warren may show up someday,” Max said, “but he chose to make himself scarce more than twenty years ago.”
“You haven’t heard from him since then?” I asked.
He shifted uneasily in his chair, then said, “I haven’t seen Warren since the day he disappeared from Las Piernas.” He anticipated my next question and said, “Please don’t put me in the awkward position of lying to you, Irene-I’d hate that. I’ll just say that I don’t know where he is right now, and even if I could locate him, odds aren’t good that he’ll come out of hiding while Mitch Yeager is alive.”
So Warren was alive, and he had contacted Max at some point. A letter or an e-mail, or a call, perhaps. I was curious, but respected Max’s request.
“Does Lillian have any siblings?” Frank asked him.
“Lillian was the only child of two only children. I suppose I could look for distant cousins, but why do that,
