"Good story, but why them in particular? Why not one of the other Belcores?"

"Because I think we'll have better luck getting gossip from a woman. Not to stereotype, but if there's a story, maybe she'll be less wary. She's married to a Belcore, she's not one by birth. She's probably not as protective."

"You think I'm devious? And what's this about me doing the calling? This is your idea, you call."

I wheedled. "I'm not nearly as talented or experienced."

"If you're going to stick your nose in other peoples' business, you need to be." She took pity on me. "I'll go first. You work on your patter. And don't forget this is a good cause. Joe Wagner may be in trouble somewhere."

"Situational ethics."

"Get over yourself, Aggie."

Lucy dialed the number on the real estate ad without taking even one extra moment to work on her spiel. I was torn between awe and horror as somebody answered, and she was off and running.

She hung up a few minutes later. "Here's what we've got. We're lucky to be living in Emerald Springs because those prices in the ad? That includes next to nothing. Everything is an upgrade. Like toilets and, floors, I don't know how-"

"Dispense with the real estate, okay? What did she say about the Belcores?"

"Creative Construction is building all the units. It's owned by a man named Jake Belcore and his sons. Apparently there are a lot of sons, too. And even though she was trying hard to cover it up, I don't think she's too high on them. She said the date to take possession listed in the paper has been moved back. There were some problems."

"Lovely. Did she say what they were?"

"No, she downplayed, of course. She was trying to sell me a house."

"Nothing else?"

"She did mention Jake Belcore was ill. She used that as a reason for the delay. But she said he's doing better now and things are back on track."

"Could Joe be one of Jake's sons? Or a nephew? And why would he lie? She said lots of sons. That would mean Joe has lots of family."

"Some of those Belcores in the clippings might be sons. So now it's up to you to find out more for us. Ready to make your call?"

"Not with you listening!"

"Fine, I'm going to the bathroom. I'll wash my hands for fourteen seconds, like we're supposed to, and I'll comb my hair. Then I'll go in the kitchen and see if you have anything worth drinking in your refrigerator. But when I'm done rummaging, I'm coming back."

Making the call to information for the phone number of Dan Belcore in Braintree was easy. I jotted down the number and took a deep breath. The hard part was coming up, but I knew Lucy wouldn't be gone forever. I dialed.

A woman answered. She sounded middle-aged and tired.

I realized I hadn't invented an insurance company. I didn't want to use a real one in case the Belcores got suspicious and made some calls of their own.

I cleared my throat. "My name is Agate Sloan, from the Consolidated Community Life Insurance Company of Ohio." I had always thought the name of our church had better uses. I felt a thrill of pride. Next I'd be cracking safes and socking money in overseas accounts.

"Is this one of those phone solicitations? Are you trying to sell me something? I'm on the do-not-call list, you know. I could have you arrested."

I winced. "I'm not trying to sell you a thing, Mrs. Belcore. I'm trying to find a Joseph Belcore. Mr. Belcore has a policy with us which is about to expire. All our premium notices were returned, so it seems he's moved and forgotten to give us his change of address."

I was doing okay, but my stomach was tied in knots. On the other hand, she sounded less tired now, almost perky.

"Joseph Belcore? Why are you calling me? My husband's name is Dan."

"This was the alternative address he gave us."

"Joseph gave you our address?"

For a moment I forgot to speak. There was a Joseph Belcore. Of course their Joe could be someone else. Joe isn't an uncommon name. But still.

I realized she was waiting. "Yes, and I got your phone number from information. Can you give us his new information so we can send the premium notice right out? It's a sizeable policy, and we don't want it to expire before he does." This was a touch of life insurance humor, but apparently she missed it because she didn't laugh.

"I can't believe Joe would give our address. We haven't heard from him in years. n.o.body has. There was that business with the FBI. Then he just disappeared off the face of the earth. Poor old Jake's never gotten over it."

"I'm sorry. The FBI? That sounds like something we might need to know about."

"I don't see why. It blew over after he left. Personally I think somebody made it go away, if you know what I mean."

"What went away?"

"I don't know, except that nothing was ever proved. Still, you have to wonder why Joe took off. I always wondered if he got fitted with a pair of concrete shoes, but now you're telling me he's alive? And he gave you our address? But how could he have? We just moved into this house in April, so no way would he have it. You're saying he gave it to you since then?"

"No. No, our letter to your old address came back, but it had a forwarding address from the post office. I just decided to look you up and call because it's quicker than sending out the letter again."

I was amazed how fast I had come up with that. Apparently I was born for this. What a shame.

Mrs. Belcore tsked sadly. "Well, you found us, but we can't help you find Joe. n.o.body in the family even talks about him anymore. Not when I'm around, anyway. It's hard on Jake. He misses Joe something awful."

I could only think of one other thing to ask. "Would you mind telling me how long Joseph Belcore has been missing?"

"Maybe fifteen years, I'm not sure. He was a college student. The only brother to go, you know. Jake was so proud. Then Joseph comes home for the summer, the you-know-what hits the fan, and he's gone. Forever."

"It's a sad story," I said, and meant it.

"Yeah. And Jake's not getting any younger. If you track down my brother-in-law, you tell him to get himself back here to make things right with his dad before he pa.s.ses on."

"I'll be sure to tell him. Thanks so much, Mrs. Belcore." I hung up before she could think to ask me to repeat my name and the name of the company I was with.

Applause sounded from the doorway. "A star is born," Lucy said.

"It's no wonder so many people get ripped off. Once she warmed up I could have gotten her bank account and PIN numbers."

I told Lucy everything Mrs. Belcore had said. Lucy sprawled on the sofa beside me and listened raptly.

"What's your gut instinct? You think it's the same Joe Belcore?"

"Why else would he have the clippings?" The thrill of discovery was dying now, and I just felt sad for an old man who had lost his son. I also felt sorry for the young man who kept in touch with his family by clipping articles about haircuts and bank booklets.

I turned so I was half reclining, my knees to my chin. "If Joe left his family to escape arrest for some crime he committed, then maybe he left Maura and Tyler for the same reason."

"I missed something. Who wanted to arrest him this time?"

"Junie saw Joe's photo a couple of days ago. She's almost sure she saw him at Mayday! She says he came into her tent, but he left without having his fortune told. The light wasn't bright, and he didn't get close. But Teddy was there, and you know Teddy. She did an imitation of the man's voice..."

"And it sounded like Joe?"

"Afraid so. Exactly."

"You think Joe killed Hazel Kefauver? That maybe he pretended not to come home when he was supposed to, then he sneaked into Mayday! without anybody knowing he was there, poisoned her without being seen, and left again? Half the town was there, Aggie. Somebody who knew him would have spotted him. Does your story make sense?"

"Put like that, no. But nothing makes sense to me. I just can't believe Joe's a murderer."

"I could point out that you also liked the last two killers you caught."

"So much for my instincts, huh?"

"What's up next? We've got some idea who he was and where he came from, but no idea where he went."

"Roussos might be able to find him. The problem is that Maura hasn't reported him missing. And she's not going to report it because she's afraid he'll lose his job. Besides, now, with all this other stuff lurking in Joe's background, Roussos is going to be immediately suspicious."

"So you're not going to tell him?"

"No, but I am going to see him. Tomorrow, if I'm feeling better. I want to find out whatever I can about Hazel's death. I owe it to Brownie and to Joe."

"And you think you can waltz in there and just ask him? And he'll tell you everything he knows?"

"I'm hoping for some hint gleaned from body language and eyebrow position."

"You could take me with you to get my impressions."

I tilted my head. "Why? The man isn't your type."

"And my type is?"

"Rich guys who do what you tell them to."

She didn't deny it. "That doesn't seem to be working out so well."

"I told you I'd make a list."

"Put Roussos on it somewhere."

I wondered if Lucy was kidding. I wondered how much more information I could get out of him if he was dating my best friend. Then I wondered how quickly the information would dry up once they broke it off. Lucy always broke it off.

"I'll leave your business card on his desk," I promised, "and a map to your condo. "Is that subtle enough?"

"Remind me again why we're such good friends?"

"There aren't enough hours left in the afternoon."

11.

The next morning I felt perky enough to get up early and greet the girls with banana pancakes. As an apology for sleeping late the day before I even topped them with b.u.t.ter and real maple syrup.

I was also anxious to talk to Teddy. Starting about three yesterday afternoon chaos had reigned in the SloanaWilc.o.x household. Deena's transportation to her riding lessons fell through. Since I much prefer she hang out with horses than boys, I dragged myself to the car and drove my daughter and three friends out into the country.

The trip back might have been a good time to quiz my youngest daughter about her long face, except Teddy asked me to drop her off at the Victorian with Junie to help plant the hardiest annuals in the front beds.

By the time I picked up Ed at the college and everyone else got home, ate dinner, and began homework, our washing machine hose sprang a leak and flooded the bas.e.m.e.nt. Unfortunately, thirty minutes before, Ed had headed for the hospital to make a pastoral call. The girls, Junie, and I bailed and mopped and by then, n.o.body was in the mood for a serious conversation.

Maybe it was Junie's tea, but this morning I was up for doing some gentle probing. And I was hoping a bit later I might be up for a tete-a-tete with Roussos, too. I wasn't at all sure one subject would be easier to crack than the other. Teddy keeps a lot to herself. If she isn't ready to share, neither thumbscrews nor promises of her very own pony can make her talk. Not that I have direct evidence. Since I have no teenagers, thumbscrews aren't at this time part of my parental repertoire.

Deena arrived first. Today she wore turquoise, a sparkly T-shirt with a bold orange Z blazed across it, and knee-length pants with the same Z on the pocket. Sid sent the outfit for her birthday, and Deena likes it so well I've been afraid she might never risk putting it on.

"I like your hair that way," I said. She had twisted shoulder-length locks on both sides and fastened them in the back with a gold barrette. Last month she asked to have her ears pierced, and we agreed that if she still wanted this at Christmastime, that would be one of her presents. I imagined there were a thousand similar queries in my future, most a lot more troubling.

"Can Tyler come over and do homework with me some time?"

There it was, out in the open. I couldn't believe my luck. "You seem like good friends."

"Not good friends. Friends."

I heard the warning note in her voice. If I went any further, the conversation would be shut down.

Teddy arrived to defuse the tension. Unlike her sister, Teddy looked as if she had dug through Junie's rummage sale finds for her outfit. She wore purple corduroy pants that were too short and an old flannel pajama top. The only shoes downstairs were chartreuse rubber rain boots. I was afraid they were part of the wardrobe plan.

"Is this Cinderella before the ball?" I asked, debating whether to send her upstairs for another try or to tough this out.

She promptly turned around and left. I heard her retreat up the stairs.

"Well, you said the right thing." Deena poured too much syrup on her pancakes.

"What do you mean?"

"She doesn't want to be Cinderella anymore. She's trying not to dress like Cinderella. So now she'll change into something better."

I thought this might be a compliment. I felt an urge to run upstairs and scrawl it in my journal. Except that I don't have a journal and the pancakes would burn.

"You can certainly have Tyler over," I said. "But he probably has to go home first to check blood sugar."

"There's nothing wrong with that!"