Threads of Suspicion(67)

Evie grinned. “I love that news, David. We need the data, and companies still have it since they’re turning it into a profit of pennies per card.”

“More like fractions of pennies per card. But it’s free income, simply selling information about what somebody’s already bought. Marketing companies love the data. The FBI does too, from the sound of it. The only drawback is the size of the data sets, how long it takes to crunch for an answer. We may be looking at a week unless there are early matches.”

“Whatever it takes. It puts someone in a specific place and time years after the fact—that’s good info to have.”

David unlocked the office suite. Evie stepped inside, saw Rob’s flowers had been transferred to her desk, two new whiteboards had been added, and a dozen new boxes were stacked by the east wall.

“That’s Maggie’s physical mail that’s considered suspicious. The box with the red lid has the top concerns. They try to sort out incoming mail and match it with other letters sent by the same individual if possible, but a lot of it isn’t signed, so they go by writing style.”

“The emails she receives?”

“The most troubling ones went over to the FBI this morning. Ones from the Midwest are getting special attention, as are those where the sender tried to mask the email’s origin.”

“Good.” Evie lifted out her master notepad filled with facts, theories, and ideas to help pull her mind back into Jenna’s disappearance. “We think this is someone keyed into Maggie’s music, so the probability that he’s written her is likely—what, in the ninety-percent range?”

“I’m willing to lean that direction. But he’s not going to want to stand out. The odds that he’s in these boxes is low.”

“I’ll take any odds. Want me on her physical fan mail?”

“Sure. Just brace yourself if you haven’t worked with fan mail before. I’m finishing the box Tammy’s parents sent back with us, using it to generate yet another list of names we can use in the comparisons.” David moved over to where those materials were now spread.

Intrigued by his caution, Evie crossed over to the fan mail, opened the one with the red lid. She soon realized why David had said it held the most disturbing correspondence—letters that ran ten pages, single-spaced, laying out the hidden messages in her lyrics she had especially coded for the sender, those who wanted Maggie to marry them, some who gushed with delight over having received a signed photograph, sending travel arrangements to be picked up at the airport on arrival.

“This mail is just . . . strange,” Evie said, rather shocked.

David paused to glance over. “Welcome to the world of the general public writ large. About one percent of the people who like Maggie’s music are at the ends of the bell curve for normal. The vast majority are, as you say, strange, but mostly harmless. A few, though, can tip toward violence when they feel affronted by Maggie’s lack of reply or encouragement. You can’t fix them—you simply stay aware of who is out there so a problem doesn’t become more than a problem.”

“How many people are on the ‘concerns list’ for Chicago?”

“Her security has photos of about two hundred people they make sure don’t get near Maggie. Another four hundred would be considered a concern.”

Evie pulled out the thickest of the folders—indicating individuals who had sent the most mail—as she was looking for a person who’d been writing Maggie for close to a decade, back to when Jenna disappeared.

“Not all this mail is creepy.” She held up a piece of light pink paper from a handful of similar pink pages in one of the folders. “Song lyric suggestions.” She read a few of the pages. “Some of these are pretty good. Why is this folder in the problem box?”

“It’s a possible source of lawsuits. Song lyrics are a really touchy area. You write a hit song, fans have sent similar ideas, maybe somebody claims the idea was plagiarized—how do you protect yourself from the honest fans who think a song was partially their idea too? So it’s policy that song lyrics never get to Maggie. Those who do send her material get a rather personal letter, explaining why Maggie can’t read their lyrics, then they’re provided places where they can submit song lyrics and receive compensation if an artist wants to use their idea. Writing hit songs is a business all its own. Maggie’s an exception since she chooses to write her own material. Most singers are not songwriters—different skill sets.”

“I had no idea.”

“One doesn’t see the realities of a career unless you’re within that sphere. The same with us. It’s not glamorous being a cop, in spite of the TV shows. It’s mostly talking to people, paperwork, and trying to figure out who to talk with next.”