"So this was why Portman suspected Mona at first," Eleanor said matter-of-factly. "Because her family were criminals." With that, she turned back to the remainder of the papers and photographs Portman had stuffed into the Riverwood file.

There were a great many of them, considerably more than had been included in the Murder Book. Portman had gathered information on every aspect of life at Riverwood. There were neatly organized copies of bank statements, trust fund accounts, records of land transactions, deeds. Other items seemed merely to have been thrown haphazardly into the file-a topographical map of Riverwood and its environs, an empty envelope marked Devane a.s.soc. Devane a.s.soc., months of telephone and telegraph records.

In addition, Portman had collected scores of photographs of Riverwood itself, pictures of the grounds and the lake taken from various angles and at different times of day, of the granite bluff that overlooked Manitou Cave, of the trail that led from it to the river below. He'd collected photographs of people too. The servants who worked at Riverwood, the men employed to build the second cottage, along with each member of the Davies family and their two summer guests, Andre Grossman leaning casually against the wall of the boathouse, Mona Flagg in a white summer dress, her back to the pond, her body bathed in a brilliant summer light. On the back of each picture Portman had reproduced the timetable he'd constructed for each person photographed, one which followed that person's movements from approximately 8:30 A.M A.M., when Faye Harrison had been seen sitting alone in the gazebo, until 4:00 P.M P.M. that same afternoon, by which time she was already dead. At the end of each report he'd listed those witnesses who'd been able to substantiate the claims of each person, the household servants who'd seen each other as well as members of the Davies family at various times, along with the witnesses who'd seen Edward and Mona on the river.

"Portman said that his father had all the pictures spread out on the bed before he died," Eleanor said as she began to arrange the photographs on the narrow bed.

She plucked one of the photographs from the rest, a shot of Allison and Mr. Davies as they strolled beside the pond, Allison's arm tucked inside her father's. "Even if Portman had known that someone at Riverwood had a powerful reason to kill Faye, there was still no opportunity for any one of them to have done it."

Watching her, it struck Graves that she examined photographs in the way Slovak examined them, searching intently for the odd, the thing that didn't fit.

She picked up a second picture. Faye posed before the desk in Mr. Davies' office, to her right the enameled box in which Mrs. Davies had stored Grossman's letters, its lid open, filled with candies wrapped in bright foil. Faye had taken one from the box and held it at her mouth. "Well, we know one thing for sure," Eleanor said. "That Portman wasn't trying to hide the truth, cover anything up, protect Mr. Davies or anyone else at Riverwood." She swept her hand over the acc.u.mulated reports and timetables and pictures, the irrefutable evidence of Portman's long struggle. "Because he was still looking. Even at the very end. He was still trying to find out what happened to Faye Harrison."

Graves' earlier reverence for the old detective returned. He saw Portman through all the pa.s.sing years, aging beneath his plastic rainslick, going blind and deaf, all his systems winding down.

"Portman was like Slovak after all," Eleanor said. Then she quoted him. "'She went into the woods. Alone.' Those may have been Dennis Portman's last words. What could he have meant by that?" She picked up a third photograph. It was the one Portman himself had gazed at for so long. In the picture, Faye lay on her side, one arm beneath her, the other dangling toward the ground, her fingers curled slightly inward, toward the palm, scarred and reddened, fingernails broken. Softly, she said, "In the beginning, Portman was looking for the truth about Riverwood. But later he seems to have changed his direction. He started looking for the truth about Faye."

She picked up another picture. Faye gathered with the family and staff of Riverwood, all of them arrayed on the front lawn, cl.u.s.tered together, staring at the camera. Portman had drawn a circle around Faye's head, then a line that connected it to Grossman. "Look at this," Eleanor murmured. "Why would he have drawn that line?"

Graves took the photograph. He looked first at one face, then at the other. "Because Grossman is watching Faye." He handed the picture back to Eleanor. "All the others are looking at the camera. But Grossman is looking at Faye."

"And Faye knows he's looking at her. See how stiff she looks. A fake smile. Not a natural one. She knows Grossman is looking at her, and she's trying to avoid his gaze. Why?"

If Portman had ever discovered the answer to that question, there was no indication of it in any of the materials he'd gathered on Faye Harrison. Instead, as Graves and Eleanor went through the rest of the papers he'd a.s.sembled over the years, they found only a baffling collection of school records, teacher comments, report cards. Portman had even managed to get hold of Faye's medical records, the acc.u.mulated history of her physical existence, charts of height and weight from the time she was eight until her sixteenth birthday. Nearly two hours had pa.s.sed before they'd gone over the last of the doc.u.ments, studied the final photograph, read the last list or chart.

Graves stated the unavoidable conclusion. "I think Charlie Portman was wrong. I think his father died in the dark. And even if he did find the truth at the very end, he didn't leave a clue as to what it was."

"Yes, he did," Eleanor said. She thought a moment, then began going through the material that still lay spread across the bed. When she found the picture in which Portman had drawn a line connecting Faye and Grossman, she turned it toward Graves. "This is his clue. The one he left behind. There had to have been a reason for him to have drawn that line. Something he found. Something he saw but that we haven't seen." She plucked the envelope marked Devane & a.s.soc. from the pile and held it up, displaying its empty interior. "Because it was taken."

They found Charlie Portman exactly where he said he'd be, stretched out in a dusty hammock behind the house, snoring softly as they approached, rousing himself immediately when Eleanor said his name.

"Oh, boy, out like a light," he said drowsily as he pulled himself up, blinking.

"Sorry to disturb you," Eleanor said.

"No, no, that's all right. Did you find anything?"

"Not exactly," Eleanor replied. "But we noticed that something was missing."

"Missing? From Dad's files?"

"Every other envelope had something in it. This one didn't." Eleanor handed him the empty envelope.

"Yes, it did," Portman said. He was now upright in the hammock, his shoulders slumped, his belly hanging loosely over his belt. "There was some kind of inventory in it. It didn't have anything to do with the murder." What he said next did not appear to bother him. "That's why I let Miss Davies take it."

CHAPTER 29.

Miss Davies sat on the side porch, reading a book. She seemed pleased to see them. "I was hoping you'd come by," she said, removing a pair of gold-rimmed gla.s.ses. "I was quite curious about your visit with my brother."

"We couldn't find a reason for him to have hurt Faye," Graves told her.

"That doesn't surprise me. I don't think he had one. Nor his girlfriend either." Miss Davies placed her gla.s.ses in a velvet case and closed the lid. "So, where does that leave you?"

Eleanor handed her the envelope they'd found in Dennis Portman's files. "Have you ever seen this?"

Miss Davies took the envelope, glanced at it, offered it back to Eleanor. Her expression did not change. "I see that you've gone to Charles Portman's house."

"It was the only empty envelope in Dennis Portman's files," Eleanor told her. "And you were the only one who'd been through his papers since he died."

Miss Davies looked at Graves warily. "Am I a suspect now?" Before he could answer, her eyes shot back to Eleanor. "Did Mr. Portman tell you why I went through his father's papers? Or have you simply a.s.sumed the worst? That I have something to hide. Well, I'm not surprised. It's our national disease, after all. Always looking for conspiracies, cover-ups." She seemed disappointed in Eleanor, resentful of her suspicion, perhaps even a little wounded by it. "It's quite contagious, evidently. Although I'm always surprised when intelligent, even gifted people prove susceptible to such delusions."

Eleanor faced Miss Davies evenly, not in the least intimidated by her manner. "Charlie Portman said you came to his office a month ago. You told him you were gathering material on the murder. You wanted to look through any papers his father might have on the case."

"Precisely," Miss Davies said. "Unfortunately, I found nothing of importance in the senior Portman's files. As to what I found in that envelope, it had nothing to do with Faye's murder." She rose. "Come. I'll show you what it was."

Graves and Eleanor followed her upstairs into what had once been Warren Davies' private office. It was a s.p.a.cious room, flooded with light, its bookshelves cluttered with a large a.s.sortment of objects collected over the years. To the right of his desk, a gla.s.s cabinet held an array of antique medical instruments and medicine jars. To the left, another cabinet contained an a.s.sortment of objects that appeared to have nothing in common.

"My father had a foundation," Miss Davies told them. "He ran it from this office." She was clearly proud of the man the room portrayed, accomplished, learned, a man of broad interests. "The things he put in these cabinets were of no particular value. Except as memories. President Roosevelt gave him this pen, for example. And that little wooden ring you see there came from Borneo. The gift of a native chief." She opened the top drawer of the desk, riffled through a stack of papers, and took out a single white sheet. "This is what you're looking for, I believe."

The letterhead read "Devane & a.s.soc." The letter was dated July 17, 1946, and had been written to Andre Grossman. There was a photograph clipped to the top right-hand corner. It showed a small enameled box, a number written just beneath it: Item 6401. Item 6401.

"When I was going through Mr. Portman's papers, I found that," Miss Davies explained. "Of course, I recognized the box." She looked at Graves. "I'm sure you must have recognized it too. My mother later used that box to store the letters she received from Mr. Grossman after he left Riverwood. I couldn't imagine why Mr. Portman had the letter in his files. As you'll see after you've read it, the contents have absolutely nothing to do with Faye."

Dear Mr. Grossman:As per your request, Devane & a.s.soc. has done a full inquiry into item 6401, picture enclosed. Since we did not actually have the item in hand, our determination as to its value is dependent upon the description and photograph you provided.The item is listed in Bridges' Authenticity Bridges' Authenticity as as Kaminsky 12. Kaminsky 12. Although we have not physically examined the object, we can say that should it be authentic-which by photographic examination it appears to be-its worth is estimated at approximately $110,000. Of course, Devane a.s.soc. cannot calculate what any particular item might bring at auction. Nor can we be held liable for any discrepancy between estimate and final price. However, should you wish to deliver the object for authentication and auction, we would be pleased to make the appropriate arrangements. Although we have not physically examined the object, we can say that should it be authentic-which by photographic examination it appears to be-its worth is estimated at approximately $110,000. Of course, Devane a.s.soc. cannot calculate what any particular item might bring at auction. Nor can we be held liable for any discrepancy between estimate and final price. However, should you wish to deliver the object for authentication and auction, we would be pleased to make the appropriate arrangements.Below please find the item's full provenance as recorded in Bridges' Authenticity: Bridges' Authenticity: In each case, transfer was made without enc.u.mbrance. In each case, transfer was made without enc.u.mbrance.CZAR NICOLA/ ROMANOV -- --14 January 1914 to:MAXIMILIAN BURATSKY -- --16 March 1916 to:PIERRE KIROV -- --4 June 1924 to:KARL CLAUBERG -- --24 October 1939 to:WARREN DAVIES 27 27 June 1942, (currently in possession) June 1942, (currently in possession) "A provenance is, as I'm sure you know, the history of ownership for a work of art," Miss Davies told them. "I didn't recognize any of the names on the list Devane and a.s.sociates provided. Other than my father's, of course. But who they are would hardly matter. The names are listed only to establish the authenticity of the box. And, of course, proof of authenticity establishes value. Andre Grossman had worked as a curator for a museum in Vienna. He must have known how valuable the box was. That's what he wanted to find out from Devane and a.s.sociates. Whether the box my father had in his office was, in fact, authentic." She gazed at them pointedly. "I can only conclude that Mr. Grossman, my mother's dear, dear friend, was a thief."

Their final lead had led nowhere. Save back to Grossman. During the previous few minutes, Miss Davies had made what appeared to be perfectly sensible a.s.sumptions as to the painter's situation. Grossman was poor, she said, with few prospects. Her father would certainly have refused to recommend him to anyone in his circle. The artist had, in fact, been more or less thrown out of Riverwood. With the portrait of Mrs. Davies finished, he had no future income upon which he could depend. In such a state of desperation, he might well have hit upon the idea of stealing the Kaminsky box. Even selling it on the underground market, Grossman would have made a substantial amount of money. Enough to sustain him for months.

And yet, for all that, one question remained. They had reached the bottom of the stairs when Eleanor voiced it. "If Grossman intended to steal the box, Paul, why didn't he do it? Why did he leave Riverwood without it?"

"But if he didn't intend to steal it," Graves said, "then why did he bother to find out whether it was authentic and how much it was worth?"

"Maybe it wasn't the value of the box that interested him."

"Then what was was he interested in?" he interested in?"

"The provenance." Eleanor's tone struck Graves as curiously a.s.sured. "The letter said that in every case the box was transferred from one person to another 'without enc.u.mbrance.' That means that no money changed hands, that it wasn't bought."

"So Mr. Davies got it as a gift?"

"Yes. A gift from someone named Karl Clauberg."

"Who's probably been dead for years," Graves said.

"Dead or alive doesn't matter," Eleanor said. "It's never too late to find someone."

Seconds later they were at her computer. Graves watched as the screen illuminated, a green background with several distinct figures, all of them indecipherable to him, part of a language and process he knew nothing of.

Eleanor's fingers tapped the keys. In response, the screen threw up another pattern, this one with a white rectangle in the far left corner. As Eleanor began to type, the letters appeared instantly inside the white rectangle: CLAUBERG.

Two seconds pa.s.sed. Three. Four. The screen did not change. Five. Six.

Then it came up, a completely different page. Graves leaned forward to see it.

A: INTELLICO/HAMBURGURL: http://www.mission.online/home/datamedia.htm http://www.mission.online/home/datamedia.htmSummary: Interessierte Intellico, die hier ihre Uhrenborsen-Termine veroffentlich haben mochten, wenden sich bitte direkt an die Redaktion (Johan Clauberg).B: IMPRESARIOURL: http://WWW.impresario/entertainmentIbrd/cir.com.htm http://WWW.impresario/entertainmentIbrd/cir.com.htm Summary: Entertainment management. Child/Adult. Commercials, industrials. Catalogue modeling. USA/ EUROPE/ASIA. Contact: Sydney Clauberg, 701 Ventura Blvd., Los Angeles, California.

C: JOHNS/FOWLER/CLAUBERG & a.s.sOCIATES.

URL: http://www.legal/tst.net/logico/firm.htm http://www.legal/tst.net/logico/firm.htmSummary: Doc.u.mentation and authentication services. Specializing in antique doc.u.ments, wills, ma.n.u.scripts, celebrity letters. Estate appraisals. 1242 Lexington Avenue, NYC, NY. REF: Edward Johns, Morris Fowler, David Clauberg.

"Nothing," Eleanor said. She hit a key marked Next, and a second page appeared.

D: CLAUBERG SCHOOL OF GARDENING.

URL: http://www.roses/thk.124.2231.abc/net.com.htm Summary: See ref: daubers Gardens, Vancouver. Picture tour. Miniature gardens. English. j.a.panese. Cla.s.ses Spring/Fall. Landscape architecture. Fountain/ Sculpture Placement

E: AMERICAN MODEL TRAIN ENTHUSIASTS.

URL: http://www.trains.ent.amer.htm http://www.trains.ent.amer.htm Summary: Convention details. Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Newsletter. Recent publications. Sources. FAQ. Jerry Partini, Pres.; BUI Clauberg, V.P.; Sandy Kramer, Treasurer.

F: AUSTRIA.

URL: http//www.travel.aust/cybertrip/vienna/off.htm http//www.travel.aust/cybertrip/vienna/off.htm Summary: Comprehensive guide to Austria. Available in English, French, Italian. 399 pgs/text. Photos. Best buys. Shopping and entertainment guide. Author Hans Wilhelm Clauberg. Marco Polo Press: Cambridge.

G: BLOCK 10.

URL: http://www.wwil/archive/Nurembergl/ausch/dc.htm http://www.wwil/archive/Nurembergl/ausch/dc.htm Summary: German doctors. Medical Experiments. k.o.c.k 10. Auschwitz. Under Himmler Directive.

"Block Ten?" Eleanor asked.

Graves shrugged.

"Let's follow it," Eleanor said. She placed the arrow on "Block 10" and clicked.

There was a pause. Then a different page flashed into view.

Auschwitz: Medical Experimentation Archive Services [Previous | | Index Index | | Next Next]Medical personnel Block 10 Auschwitz

German doctors charged with conducting medical experiments on live human subjects. Medical compound.

Experimental Block 10.

Vivisection:Dr. Dietrich Mann-committed suicide, August 1946.Dr. Klaus Gebhardt-hanged, September 1947.Dr. Johan Gerber-sentenced to 20 years in prison.

Freezing Experiments:Dr. Wolfgang Meyer-hanged, November 1947.Dr. Hans Kenner-sentenced to fifteen years.Dr. Gerta Fleck-sentenced to ten years.

Twins:Dr. Josef Mengele-chief doctor at Auschwitz-twins studies-presumed dead.

SterilizationDr. Karl Clauberg-sentenced to twenty years.

"There he is," Eleanor said. "Karl Clauberg." She stared at the name a moment. "Of course, this isn't necessarily the same Clauberg who gave Mr. Davies the box. But if it is, then why would-" She stopped, clearly realizing that without more information, further speculation was unwarranted. She returned her attention to the screen, positioned the arrow on "Clauberg," and clicked.

Karl Clauberg [Previous | | Index Index | | Next Next]n.a.z.i Doctor Anschwitz Field of Experimentation: SterilizationProfessor Karl Clauberg had, in the years preceding World War 2, expressed considerable scientific interest in the question of sterilization. Upon arrival at Auschwitz, be immediately began to perform human experimentation in Block 10.Clauberg's experiments involved female human subjects. Clauberg and the doctors who worked under his direction injected chemical substances into the wombs of Jewish and Gypsy women during "normal" gynecological examinations. Clauberg's caustic chemical was injected into the cervix in order to obstruct the fallopian tubes. The injections destroyed the lining of the womb and damaged the ovaries.In a letter to H. Himmler, Clauberg stated that by using this form of sterilization, a doctor with ten a.s.sistants would be able to sterilize one thousand women per day.Letters on Sterilization-Karl Clauberg Without a word, Eleanor clicked on "Letters on Sterilization."

Karl Clauberg [previous | | Index Index | | Next Next]n.a.z.i Doctor Auschwitz Field of Experimentation: SterilizationLetter proposing Sterilization Experiments on live Human Subjects-Karl ClaubergAddressed to Heinrich Himmler-17 Jone 1940Honorable Reichsfuehrer!I am pleased to present myself as a scientist long interested in the benefits of sterilization. If I may say so, my interest predates even those recent efforts to which the Reich has given its full and generous support. As the Reich expands, it will inevitably incorporate vast numbers of people of non-Aryan race. This material can serve as a labor supply for the Reich, but it is doubtful that this supply should replenish itself in equal numbers during future generations. Thus the question of sterilization rises as a critical factor in the future health of the Reich. Many proposals have been entertained as regards the sterilization of this population. The use of X rays, for example. This method has indeed shown itself to be both effective and inexpensive.However, I believe that the same result can be obtained even more effectively and with less expense by means of a chemical formula which can be injected into the womb. This method requires considerable experimentation, and I am hereby offering my services to the Reich as a doctor and scientist of considerable standing. Should the Reichsfuehrer look favorably upon future experimentation, I should be most happy to acquaint you with the scientific details of my proposal.So far, there has been but one opportunity to test my formula. However, I am pleased to report that this effort, which was initiated in 1938, continues to show positive results. All data indicate that the subject of this experiment remains strong and healthy. There has been no change in the rate or pattern of overall physical development. This is especially important in regard to all aspects of the digestive system. Should these very positive results continue, it is conceivable that an entire generation of inferior people could be sterilized in secret, and at a minimum expense.I might also add that as a gesture of grat.i.tude I have taken the liberty of transferring a most valuable gift to the project head of tins experiment. It should serve to show the Reich's deep appreciation for the work that has been so successfully (and in deepest confidence) carried on.

[Auschwitz Image]

"Project head," Eleanor murmured, then immediately clicked on "Auschwitz Image."

The first photograph showed two rows of emaciated young girls. They were naked, their skulls large and imposing above their withered bodies. They sat, staring vacantly at the camera, without smiles, their heads shaved, their ribs clearly visible beneath pale, malnourished flesh. Beneath the picture, the caption read: Subjects of sterilization experiments conducted by Dr. Karl Clauberg on Block 10, Auschwitz. Ages 810. Subjects of sterilization experiments conducted by Dr. Karl Clauberg on Block 10, Auschwitz. Ages 810.

In the second photograph, several doctors could be seen standing at what appeared to be a metal hospital bed. A tall man, his back to the camera, peered to the right, as if awaiting the arrival of the young girl destined next to he upon the bed. A second, considerably shorter doctor stood to the left, his body draped in a white medical coat. He looked to be in his early forties, with a receding hairline and a sloping belly. He was laughing, and Graves sensed that he'd just told a joke which the other doctors had been in the process of enjoying at the instant the picture had been taken. A third doctor, a fair-haired woman, seemed no less amused. Her lips were parted in a wide smile, but as Graves looked closer, he saw that the levity did not extend to her eyes. Beneath the photograph, he read: n.a.z.i physician Karl Clauberg (at left) who performed medical experiments on prisoners in Block 10, Auschwitz (194144). Others pictured are Drs. Rudolph Ernst and Hanna Klein. n.a.z.i physician Karl Clauberg (at left) who performed medical experiments on prisoners in Block 10, Auschwitz (194144). Others pictured are Drs. Rudolph Ernst and Hanna Klein.

Eleanor leveled her gaze on the woman in the white coat, studying the face closely, noting the wide mouth, the broad nose, the strangely mirthless smile. "Amazing how much they looked alike," she said softly. "Greta and her mother."

CHAPTER 30.

Greta Klein did not seem surprised to see them again. Graves wondered if she'd been waiting expectantly through the years as he had, waiting for the knock at the door, the pointed finger, the accusing voice, saying the same words Kessler had said when Graves had refused to give his name, You can keep your name, boy, but I know who you are. You can keep your name, boy, but I know who you are.