12

“YOU KEEP EMPHASIZING THIS ROCK FORMATION. Why do you think it’s important?” Tash asked.

“Because it reminds me of a cat arching its back,” Coltrane said.

“So?”

“The estate Packard gave you in his will is located near a town south of Acapulco called-”

“Espalda del Gato. I know. The name was in the documents Packard’s attorney sent me.”

“How’s your Spanish?”

“I see what you mean. ‘Spine of the cat.’ But that doesn’t prove the rock formation we’re looking at has anything to do with the village. It’s more likely a coincidence and this cliff along the ocean isn’t anywhere near the estate I inherited. For all we know, this cliff is in Southern California.”

“But it isn’t,” Coltrane said. “The other night I saw a movie Rebecca Chance was in. It’s called Jamaica Wind, and some parts of it were filmed on what is recognizably the Santa Monica beach, with the cliff behind it. But then all of a sudden, the location switches to a lush semitropical cliff-rimmed area along an ocean.”

“That description fits Acapulco,” Tash said.

“The movie has several cliff scenes that show the same rock formation: a cat arching its back.”

“You’re not exaggerating?”

“I swear they’re the same. A friend of mine who has access to Jamaica Wind is arranging to have a videotape made for me. When you see that tape, you’ll understand why I’m so sure. Other photographs in this box show Rebecca Chance in semitropical gardens similar to the ones in the movie.”

“Let me understand this. You’re saying that these photographs were taken in the same area where the movie was shot and possibly at the same time.”

“More than that. I’m saying I think the movie was shot at Espalda del Gato, on the estate Packard gave to you.”

“But why would… In the early thirties, it wasn’t common for movies to be shot on remote locations, was it?”

“Not at all,” Coltrane said. “The production companies liked to stay close to Los Angeles. Taking a movie crew to Acapulco would have been prohibitively expensive.”

“Then why…”

“Packard was an immensely wealthy man from a fortune he inherited at sixteen, when his parents died. These photographs make it obvious how fixated he was on Rebecca Chance. His total devotion to her can’t be mistaken. Suppose he became impatient with the limited ambitions of a movie she was being featured in.”

“Jamaica Wind.”

“Yes. Suppose he decided to become a secret financier for it. What if he hoped that an expensively mounted picture would attract more attention and boost her chances of becoming a star? Let’s assume he paid to transport a film crew to his Mexican estate.”

“And while he and Rebecca Chance were there, Packard took some of these photographs? I don’t know. That’s a lot of ‘what ifs.’”

“But it’s the only explanation that makes sense to me,” Coltrane said.

“It’s a tempting theory, I’ll give you that. Plus, it has the appeal of being romantic.” Tash rubbed the back of her neck, exhausted. “But it still doesn’t give me the answers I want. Why do Rebecca Chance and I…”

“There’s another name I haven’t mentioned. He’s connected to this in a way I haven’t been able to figure out. He produced Rebecca Chance’s final two movies. Then he disappeared not long after she did. Have you ever heard of anyone named Winston Case?”

Tash’s mouth opened in shock.

“You know the name?” Coltrane asked.

The dark of her eyes widened. “Winston Case?”

“Yes.”

“He was my grandfather!”

13

COLTRANE WAS SO STUNNED THAT HE WAS SURE HE HADN’T heard correctly. “Your grandfather?”

“That’s the name my mother told me. I never met him, so I have to take her word for it.”

“The name?”

“When I was a child, I noticed that a lot of my friends had grandparents, but I didn’t know what that meant. I asked my mother if I had grandparents, and she said, yes, everybody had grandparents but that mine weren’t with us any longer. Naturally, I wondered what she meant, and she finally found a way to explain to me, without disturbing me, that they were dead.”

“Winston Case.”

Tash nodded. “I memorized the name so I could tell it to my friends. To prove to them I once had grandparents, too.”

“But maybe you misremembered.”

“No, as I got older, I asked my mother what he was like. The name she referred to was always the same: Winston Case.”

“And who was your grandmother?”

“Esmeralda Gutiérrez.”

“Did your mother ever describe Winston Case as having been a film producer?”

“According to her, he was a carpenter. She remembered the family moving around a lot as he went from job to job, although I guess the word family makes it sound bigger than it was. There were only the three of them.”

“Where did this happen?” Coltrane asked.

“In Mexico.”

“An American working as an itinerant carpenter in Mexico?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, as an American citizen, he could have brought his wife and daughter into the United States without any immigration problems. Given the difference in the standard of living, he could have taken better care of them here.”

“In the Depression?”

“You’ve got a point,” Coltrane said. “But surely if Winston Case had the money to produce films, he could have managed to hang on to enough resources to be comfortable during the Depression. He wouldn’t have had to go to Mexico and become a manual laborer.”

“Then maybe we’re not talking about the same Winston Case.”

“The coincidence is too much for me to accept. There’s got to be a connection between… Does your mother live in Los Angeles? I need to ask her about-”

“My mother’s dead.”

“… Oh.”

“She died from lung cancer three years ago.”

Coltrane didn’t speak for a moment. “I’m very sorry.” He felt as if a door in his mind had been shut. He struggled to open another one. “Yes.” Abruptly he reached for the box of nude photographs.

“What are you doing?” Tash asked.

He hurriedly opened the box and sorted through the naked images until he came to the first waist-up shot. Rebecca Chance’s breasts were prominent.

“I’m not comfortable with this,” Tash said.

“Does she look pregnant to you? I have a friend who’s convinced that…” He glanced at Tash and saw embarrassment and confusion in her eyes. “I know this is awkward. We’ve just barely met, and… I promise I’m doing this for a reason. Please, trust me. My friend pointed out that Rebecca Chance’s breasts aren’t the same in every photograph. They get fuller. The nipples get larger. That made my friend think that Rebecca Chance was pregnant when some of these pictures were taken. She was in great shape to begin with and she watched her weight, and she was far enough along for the hormones to be kicking in, but not far enough along for her to be demonstrably pregnant in other ways. Maybe that’s true. Hell, my friend’s a woman, but she isn’t a doctor. What do I know about this sort of thing? But suppose it’s true. What if… Could the reason you look so much like Rebecca Chance be…”

“That I’m her granddaughter?” Tash’s voice was a strained whisper.

“Look at the pictures again. Can you think of another explanation?”

“I don’t know what to…” Tash hugged herself. “Take me out of here.”

Before Coltrane knew what he was doing, he put an arm around her. “Yes, you’ve been through a lot. Let’s get you upstairs where it’s warm.”