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Her eyes widened. “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes.”
“But how will you prove it?”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure I can … arrange something with the guilty party.”
“Who? Bower?”
“No. He wouldn’t dirty his hands with this.”
“Who then?”
“I have a theory. I’m waiting for confirmation. Hopefully, tomorrow.”
“And then?”
“Don’t worry about it. The less you know, the better off you are.”
*****
The following morning, Jamila’s mood seemed to have lightened. By the time I woke up, she was brewing coffee.
“Good morning,” she said, pouring me a mug, while I retrieved a box of Cheerios from the pantry.
Jamila actually smiled. “Boy, how about this weather, huh?”
I nodded and fixed myself a bowl of cereal as she talked about plans to go shopping.
They say confession is good for the soul. I had no time or inclination for confessions. My soul probably couldn’t bear close examination.
“I think I’m going to head up to the discount stores in Delaware,” Jamila said. “I know the convention has started, but I don’t want to hang out there while these charges are still pending, you know?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Besides, why not take advantage of the lack of sales tax?” That would keep her busy, which was in everyone’s best interests. My cell phone rang. The caller ID was as I’d hoped.
I flipped the phone open. “Talk to me, Duvall.”
“Well, hello there. Those aren’t exactly sweet nothings, but I’ll take them.”
I inhaled, and slowly blew out my breath. “Why don’t we save the cute remarks for later? Just tell me. Whatcha got?”
“On Marsha Bower, I came up empty. I found an old address for her in Santa Fe, New Mexico, but when I called, the landlady said she hadn’t lived there in years. She moved out and didn’t leave a forwarding address.
“I checked the public records. Her driver’s license has expired, but I can’t find a death record.”
Most odd. Marsha seemed to have vanished into thin air. I wondered if her family had bothered to look for her after she’d taken off. I recalled the weird look I caught in Junior’s eyes when I mentioned her name. What was it? Haunted? Fearful? Hopeful? I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Sam?” Duvall said.
“I’m here. Just got distracted. So what else did you learn?”
“Sea Turtle Saviors is a nonprofit based in Costa Rica. Did you know that Costa Rica has a large nonprofit sector? Did you also know that nonprofits down there are rumored to be used quite often for nasty business like money laundering connected with terrorist activity?”
I blinked. “What does this have to do with Maria Benitez?”
“Nothing. I just thought it was interesting.”
I huffed. “Can we stick to the relevant facts, please?”
