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“Pretty self-explanatory for ending a relationship. Handy when it’s not officially a divorce,” Diana said. “Also torn the blanket.”
I’d have to remember those.
“Anyway,” Jennifer said with impatient emphasis, “she hooked up with that guy, then Ben Kilpatrick, then that guy again before she went back to Kilpatrick. When she disappeared after Kilpatrick died, maybe she went back to the first guy—”
“He’d already died — killed by law enforcement who suspected him of a murder he hadn’t committed in 1901.”
“So, still a blank in Laura’s history,” Diana said.
Nodding, I moved on. “And Pearl Virtanen’s after Oscar died.”
“I’ll get the guys on it. Start with the census.”
I had a momentary vision of Jennifer’s guys encountering these women and their outlaw significant others in the timelessness of the cyber world. I’d pay to be a spectator if that meeting took place outside my imagination.
“Doesn’t have to be from right after Oscar Virtanen’s death, either,” Jennifer said. “Later censuses could show her with a kid of the right age.”
“Good point,” I said. “I’ll let you know if there are any pointers in the dissertation Mrs. P gave me. But it did rather give away the ending up front by saying what happened to Pearl was not known.”
Diana tipped her head. “We don’t want to eliminate other possibilities, just because Keefe zeroed in on the Virtanens. Laura Bullion being disappeared for those years after Ben died, could fit with a woman having a baby, staying a few years, then leaving it to be raised in a more stable situation.”
“Or the kid could die.”
Diana and I stared at Mike. Jennifer huffed in disapproval at his grim outlook.
He stuck to his guns. “Well, it could. High infant mortality rate’s a historic fact.”
“I was thinking,” I said, leaving that topic behind, “knowing the historical truth one way or another might not affect this investigation, because it wouldn’t change what Keefe believed was true.”
“But,” Diana said, “how could it have led to his murder? Unless... unless there’s some special information about the location of the treasure being held for someone who proves descent from Oscar and Pearl?”
“We haven’t heard anything about something like that,” Mike said. “Along with the fact that if someone somewhere held the secret location of this treasure for an Oscar Virtanen descendant, why wasn’t it collected by earlier generations? Keefe’s parent or grandparent, say, assuming he’s related. Or—”
Jennifer jumped in. “Previous generations didn’t know or couldn’t prove the connection in pre-DNA days.”
“Or,” Mike repeated emphatically, “why didn’t whoever’s been holding this secret of the location for more than a century — and presumably passing it down to younger folks, because it sure isn’t one person from the early 1900s to now — take it?”
“Honesty,” Diana said.
“Afraid of Oscar Virtanen’s ghost,” Jennifer offered.
Mike shook his head. “Buried treasure — it’s such a long shot.”
“You’re getting stodgy,” Jennifer tossed at him. “Before you would have loved the idea of buried treasure.”
“Before what?” he snapped.
“Before you got that big job in Chicago, and got all stodgy.”
Diana and I looked at each other. We’d both thought they were getting along better recently. But this felt even sharper than they used to be. Especially Mike.
“You’re in Chicago, too. Or close enough, so—”
Diana cut across the squabbling with the ruthlessness of a mother of teenagers. “We’re off topic. Back to this inquiry about why a man’s dead.”
I might have let it run a little longer to see if it revealed anything interesting. You could say that made me a better journalist, while Diana qualified as the better friend.
But I cooperated. “Mike, you said something early on about Keefer Dobey that’s stuck in my head — that he’s never harmed anybody. But Randall Kenyon could feel Keefe harmed him.”
