someone’s garbage that’s to be collected the next morning.”
“Was there any jewelry on either body? Anything to identify them?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Your father’s ring finger showed signs of a ring, probably a wedding ring.”
“He wore one, yes. But Mom did too, a thin diamond band that was either white gold or platinum. And she had a diamond engagement ring that she always wore too. She had very thin fingers. Maybe the rings didn’t leave a mark.”
“And were easy to remove,” I suggested.
We talked for a while longer and then Ariana said she wanted to get back to the motel. Her flight would leave early and she had arranged for a taxi to pick her up. I admired her self-reliance, especially at such a time. She promised she would call if she had enough time on Wednesday between going to the bank and getting out to O’Hare airport for the return trip.
In the meantime, I said, I would contact the company her mother worked for in White Plains and see what they could tell me about her.
As she picked up her bag to leave with Jack, Ariana called, “Say good-bye to Eddie for me.”
I talked to Elsie that evening, telling her that I might be taking a trip and could she—?
“Of course, Chris,” she said, not letting me finish my request. “You know I look forward to your being busy so I get my quality time with Eddie.”
“What would I do without you?” I said.
“You’d have a much more boring life—and so would I.”
It was true. These detours from the norm filled my life both intellectually and substantively. What I was now involved in was tantalizing; besides the homicides, there was a bereaved daughter who needed answers and didn’t know where to look. I hoped the list of former residences and the will would set us on a successful path.
Jack called from New York after lunch on Tuesday to say he knew how to locate phone books on the Internet and we could do some looking tonight. I was glad he said “we.” I don’t use the computer for much myself, although I have learned how to send and receive e-mail. I was surprised at the number of people I knew who already kept in touch that way. In fact, when I know that Jack will be busy in meetings, I e-mail him instead of calling. Since I count my pennies, I’m always happy to save the cost of a call to New York.
Earlier that morning I had called the White Plains number and reached someone who knew Rosette Parker, the name the deceased used at work and at the bank.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Parker is no longer with us,” the woman said crisply.
“I know that,” I responded. “Are you aware that she died about a month ago?”
There was silence for several seconds. “Would you repeat that?” the woman asked.
I said it again.
“Rosette died?”
“Yes. In May.”
“That’s why she stopped coming to work. We didn’t know what to think.” The somewhat officious voice softened. “She was always so conscientious, we couldn’t understand why she would suddenly not show up. We called her home number but it just rang and rang.”
I arranged to drive up and explain what happened. As I was already dressed and ready to go, I alerted Elsie and then I dashed.
I had to sign in and show ID in the building, and then I took the elevator to the third and top floor. Elizabeth Olson, with whom I had spoken, happened to be walking past the reception area as I asked for her, and she led me to her bright, windowed office where I sat in a comfortable chair.
She reiterated her surprise when Rosette had simply stopped coming to work, mentioning clients Rosette had been working with who couldn’t believe she had abandoned them.
“She was murdered,” I said when I got a chance to speak.
“No!”
I told her briefly how I became involved in the situation, and I watched her face register shock. Then I said, “There are some strange things in Rosette’s life that no one is able to explain at this time. I’d just like to know what you knew about
“Was there any jewelry on either body? Anything to identify them?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Your father’s ring finger showed signs of a ring, probably a wedding ring.”
“He wore one, yes. But Mom did too, a thin diamond band that was either white gold or platinum. And she had a diamond engagement ring that she always wore too. She had very thin fingers. Maybe the rings didn’t leave a mark.”
“And were easy to remove,” I suggested.
We talked for a while longer and then Ariana said she wanted to get back to the motel. Her flight would leave early and she had arranged for a taxi to pick her up. I admired her self-reliance, especially at such a time. She promised she would call if she had enough time on Wednesday between going to the bank and getting out to O’Hare airport for the return trip.
In the meantime, I said, I would contact the company her mother worked for in White Plains and see what they could tell me about her.
As she picked up her bag to leave with Jack, Ariana called, “Say good-bye to Eddie for me.”
I talked to Elsie that evening, telling her that I might be taking a trip and could she—?
“Of course, Chris,” she said, not letting me finish my request. “You know I look forward to your being busy so I get my quality time with Eddie.”
“What would I do without you?” I said.
“You’d have a much more boring life—and so would I.”
It was true. These detours from the norm filled my life both intellectually and substantively. What I was now involved in was tantalizing; besides the homicides, there was a bereaved daughter who needed answers and didn’t know where to look. I hoped the list of former residences and the will would set us on a successful path.
Jack called from New York after lunch on Tuesday to say he knew how to locate phone books on the Internet and we could do some looking tonight. I was glad he said “we.” I don’t use the computer for much myself, although I have learned how to send and receive e-mail. I was surprised at the number of people I knew who already kept in touch that way. In fact, when I know that Jack will be busy in meetings, I e-mail him instead of calling. Since I count my pennies, I’m always happy to save the cost of a call to New York.
Earlier that morning I had called the White Plains number and reached someone who knew Rosette Parker, the name the deceased used at work and at the bank.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Parker is no longer with us,” the woman said crisply.
“I know that,” I responded. “Are you aware that she died about a month ago?”
There was silence for several seconds. “Would you repeat that?” the woman asked.
I said it again.
“Rosette died?”
“Yes. In May.”
“That’s why she stopped coming to work. We didn’t know what to think.” The somewhat officious voice softened. “She was always so conscientious, we couldn’t understand why she would suddenly not show up. We called her home number but it just rang and rang.”
I arranged to drive up and explain what happened. As I was already dressed and ready to go, I alerted Elsie and then I dashed.
I had to sign in and show ID in the building, and then I took the elevator to the third and top floor. Elizabeth Olson, with whom I had spoken, happened to be walking past the reception area as I asked for her, and she led me to her bright, windowed office where I sat in a comfortable chair.
She reiterated her surprise when Rosette had simply stopped coming to work, mentioning clients Rosette had been working with who couldn’t believe she had abandoned them.
“She was murdered,” I said when I got a chance to speak.
“No!”
I told her briefly how I became involved in the situation, and I watched her face register shock. Then I said, “There are some strange things in Rosette’s life that no one is able to explain at this time. I’d just like to know what you knew about
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