“We’ll start there.” David finished the last box and added it to the flat cart. “Come on, Evie. Let’s call it a night and head back to the hotel.”
She gladly went to get her coat.
Seventeen
The hotel restaurant at 10:40 a.m. on a Thursday had just two other guests in a room that could seat forty.
“It went that bad with Cynthia?” Evie asked, pushing a Diet Coke across the table as David approached.
He pulled out a chair, sighed as he sat down. “Just sad. She’d seen the news, wondered if it could be Saul. I told her the medical examiner is going to need another week to confirm ID, but based on what I’d seen at the scene, it was her brother. It helped a lot having copies of those sunset photos for her.”
Evie simply nodded, imagining the difficult meeting for both of them.
He picked up a mushroom from a basket of appetizers she had ordered, then pointed to her pad of paper. “Master list? Where are you at right now?”
“Just reviewing old theories on what happened to Jenna. This vast gulf between how Candy saw Jenna and how her friends describe her has my attention. Jenna was a lot more complex than she appears.”
“I remember you mentioning it at the time.” David nodded to the third plate. “Ann’s going to join us?”
“She’s across the street buying a gift for Paul. She asked me to order her a cheeseburger and fries.”
“We’ll make that two then—sounds good whether this is breakfast or lunch.”
“Three.”
David smiled, signaled the waiter, gave the order.
“So how do you resolve who was the real Jenna?” he asked.
“Find more people who didn’t like her, if that’s possible. I’m not particularly hopeful, though. Even if they didn’t like her at the time, they feel bad about her disappearance, and it determines how they want to describe her today. So I’ve decided I mostly want to talk with her sister.”
David lifted an eyebrow. “I think I’ll sidestep that conversation. A guy asking her to dish on her missing sister could dampen the flow of information.”
Evie smiled. “Hence my asking Ann to come along.”
Ann appeared as she spoke, a bag from an upscale men’s shop in her hand. “Hi, David, Evie.” She sat down, settling her purchases in the empty seat. “I don’t know why I assume shopping for Paul is as easy as walking into a store and making a decision. Men’s clothes are worse than women’s. All the fabrics and colors and patterns you have to hit just right—a shirt with a subtle stripe, or is it checked, does it need a solid tie or can it contrast in pattern? It’s dizzying.”
They all chuckled, and David said, “I’d suggest finding an employee at the store who does know how to do it, then say, ‘I need pants, shirt, tie, jacket, keep it under five hundred,’ and come back later to pick it all up.”
“Sounds like a better plan. But at least I know Paul doesn’t have this particular shirt or tie design anywhere in his closet. So score one for originality. David, I am very curious about your day yesterday.”
“A fascinating day. Saul Morris’s remains are located, official confirmation to come, and Englewood detectives have an interesting murder investigation ahead of them. We’ve now handed the case off to them—hit in the back of the head, shot in the chest, and entombed in a wall. Connections to Blake Grayson are strong enough they’ll be looking at him to have either done the murder or approved it. Finding enough for an arrest and taking it to trial is an entirely different matter.”
“Sharon asked Paul last night for anything the FBI had on Blake Grayson, so I imagine it’s going to get worked from a couple of angles now,” Ann mentioned.
“Good to hear,” David said around a drink from his soda. “Lori Nesbitt found the remains.”
Conversation paused as the waiter brought three plates to the table and refilled soft drinks.
Evie picked up her sandwich. “So, Ann, why don’t you tell us about Lori Nesbitt?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Is it her real name? Is she the WITSEC death attorney? Is it true she’s retired now? Why didn’t you tell me you had recruited a top-shelf cop to get close to Nathan?”
Ann picked up one of her French fries. “He needs a wife. She’d make him a good one.”
“On that note . . .” David said, picking up his plate, “I am abandoning this conversation to you ladies, retreating to a side table where I can call Maggie and ask what she’s doing right now. She should have landed in Chicago about forty minutes ago.”