Legally Dead by Edna Buchanan Page B

don’t have to die or go through puberty again.”
    â€œI’ve heard about people who fake their own deaths for insurance money or to escape arrest. They get caught. They find them in Australia or…”
    â€œMost do little or no planning,” Venturi said. “They seize the moment, like the people who tried to disappear in the aftermath of 9/11, at the World Trade Center. The trouble was they remained the same people, kept the same habits—they just changed their names. That’s sloppy. The FBI was on them like white on rice.
    â€œWe, mostly you, would have to do it right or not at all. It would mean hard work, study, and determination on your part. It takes a superhuman effort to change a lifetime of habits and become somebody else. You’d have to leave everything behind. All your personal possessions, your personality, all your likes, dislikes, and quirks, and every other human being you ever knew. No exceptions. You smoke Marlboros, right?”
    Gates nodded uncertainly.
    â€œNot anymore. Commit to this and you can never smoke another Marlboro. You’d change brands permanently, or better yet, quit smoking forever. You’d be an entirely new person, with new traits, tastes, and habits.
    â€œPeople fail because they remain the same person despite changing their names and maybe even their appearances.”
    Danny sipped his coffee, his eyes on Gates’ face.
    â€œThe key to identifying you lies in your past,” Venturi said. “A good investigator would study your background, learn all about your childhood, the schools you attended, your jobs, your friends and associates. He’d want to know your voice and speech patterns, gestures and mannerisms, eccentricities and secrets, the clothes you wear, the cars you like to drive, your hobbies and special interests. Armed with that, a sharp detective would know where you’d most likely go, what you’d do when you got there, even the people you would gravitate to and associate with.
    â€œAll those bits and pieces create a picture of you that normally remains unchanged no matter what you call yourself or whatever color you dye your hair.
    â€œSo, for this to work, you’d have to permanently break old habits, create new ones, and really become someone else. It’s not simple,” Venturi said. “Anything to add, Danny?”
    â€œNope,” Danny said. “Except that it’s permanent. No coming back.”
    â€œStay here,” Venturi said. “Rest, think about it for a few days, then let us know if you’re interested. Whatever you decide, you can never repeat this conversation to anyone.”
    â€œRight.” Danny drew his index finger across his neck, a somewhat empty threat since the man had tried to cut his own throat less than twenty-four hours earlier.
    Gates stared at one, then the other, and leaned forward.
    â€œGentlemen, I don’t need thirty seconds to think about it. If the slightest possibility exists that it could happen, that you could help me do it, I want to go for it.” His eyes were eager. His voice rose. “I want it more than anything. I’d do whatever it takes.”
    Venturi cut his eyes at Danny. “What do you think?”
    Danny nodded. “I’m down with it. I’m in.”
    â€œMy cousin Billy died young, up in New Jersey,” Gates offered. “A handsome, athletic, daredevil kid, only sixteen. School was out for the summer when he raced down a steep hill on his bike, lost it, and slammed into a pole in Paterson. Smashed his skull. Maybe I could use his identity. We could get a copy of his birth certificate. We were almost the same age. His last name was Raneletti.”
    Venturi shook his head. “Let dead friends and relatives stay buried. That’s the kind of fact a good investigator would unearth right away. Don’t worry, let us come up with a name.”
    Gates’ brow furrowed. “I know I