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“Who?”
“In Key West. We talked a few days ago.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah.” Rudkowski sank back onto his pillow. “Make this quick, please. I’ve got a situation here.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m trying to reach Agent Easton, and, like the time before, he didn’t leave me his number this morning. It was my oversight. I should have made sure—”
“Hold it. This morning? You talked to Easton this morning?”
“Well, yesterday morning, officially.”
While Rudkowski had been licking his wounds and swilling cheap scotch, midnight had slipped past him. “Okay. Yesterday morning. Did he say where he was calling from?”
“Well, no, sir, but he can’t on account of him being—”
“Undercover.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why was he calling you?”
“Same as before. The Marian Harris case.”
“Specifically?”
“He asked if a Talia Shafer had been questioned during the investigation into Harris’s disappearance.”
Rudkowski rolled over and picked up the notepad and pen on the nightstand. “Spell the names, please. And who is she?”
The deputy gave him the spellings. “She was in the photograph of the party scene on the boat.”
“So were dozens of other people. What was Easton’s particular interest in her?”
“He couldn’t disclose that, because it’s—”
“Classified.”
“Yes, sir. I thought you would know what his interest was.”
What he didn’t know about Easton’s recent activities would fill the fucking Superdome. “Was this Talia Shafer considered a person of interest in the Harris case?”
“No, sir. Agent Easton asked if there were any notes taken during her interview, but it was just basic stuff. Date and time. Names of the officers who talked to her. Nothing came of it, nothing to follow up on. Agent Easton thanked me for checking, and that was it.”
Rudkowski figured that he’d had too much to drink. He was having trouble connecting the dots. “So, if that was it, why are you trying to reach Easton now?”
“Because about an hour ago, our department got a call from Charleston PD.”
“South Carolina?”
“Right.”
Rudkowski listened with shrinking patience as the deputy related what he knew about the death of an Elaine Conner.
“They haven’t ruled out that it was an accident, but they’re leaning toward foul play. A man was with her on the yacht. He’s unaccounted for. Anyhow, one of the investigators up there remembered reading about our case down here and was struck by the similarities.”
“Rich lady. Snazzy boat.”
“Yes, sir. So they called our department to compare notes. I thought Agent Easton would want to look into this Charleston case, too.”
