"And you bring this message to Jenrette."

She shrugged.

"And Jenrette is willing to pay it. So go on from there."

"We insist on proof. Manolo starts talking about how he still needs to nail down details. But here's the thing. We've checked up on him now. We know his name isn't really Manolo Santiago. But we also know that he's on to something big. Huge even."

"Like what?"

The busboy put down our waters. Raya took a sip.

"He told us that he knew what really happened the night those four kids died in the woods. He told us that he could prove you lied about it."

I said nothing.

"How did he find you?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

But I thought about it.

"You went to Russia to dig up stuff on my parents."

"Not me."

"No, I mean, an investigator from MVD. And you guys also knew about those old murders, that the sheriff even questioned me. So…"

I saw it now.

"So you questioned everyone involved in that case. I know you guys sent someone down to visit Wayne Steubens. And that means you went to the Perez family too, right?"

"I don't know, but that makes sense."

"And that's how Gil heard about it. You visited the Perezes. His mother or father or someone called you. He saw a way to score some money. He goes to you. He doesn't tell you who he really is. But he has enough information that you're curious. So they send you to, what, se duce him?"

"Get close to him. Not seduce."

"You say 'tomato,' I say 'tomahto.' So did he take the bait?"

"Men usually do."

I thought about what Cingle said. This was not a road I wanted to travel down again. "And what did he tell you?" "Almost nothing. You see, he told us you were with a girl that night.

Someone named Lucy. That's all I knew-what I told you. The day after we met, I called Manolo on his cell phone. Detective York answered. You know the rest."

"So Gil was trying to get you proof? In order to score this big payday?"

"Yes."

I thought about that. He had visited Ira Silverstein. Why? What could Ira have told him? "Did Gil say anything about my sister?" No. "Did he say anything about, well, about Gil Perez? Or any of the victims?"

"Nothing. He was coy, like I said. But it was clear he had some thing big."

"And then he ends up dead."

She smiled. "Imagine what we thought."

The waiter came over. He took our order. I got the salad special.

Raya ordered a cheeseburger, rare.

"I'm listening," I said.

"A man says he has dirt on you. He is willing to give us proof for a price. And then, before he can tell us all he knows, he ends up dead." Raya ripped a tiny piece of bread and dipped it in olive oil. "What would you have thought?"

I skipped the obvious answer. "So when Gil was found dead, your assignment changed."

"Yes."

"You were supposed to get close to me."

"Yes. I thought my helpless Calcutta story would get to you. You seemed like the type." "What type?" She shrugged. "Just a type, I don’t know. But then you didn't call. So I called you."

"That efficiency suite in Ramsey. The one you said Gil lived in-"

"We rented that room. I was trying to get you to admit to some thing." "And I did tell you some stuff." "Yes. But we weren't sure you were being accurate or truthful. No body really believed that Manolo Santiago was Gil Perez. We figured that he was probably a relative."

"And you?"

"I believed you, actually."

"I also told you about Lucy being my girlfriend."

"We already knew about that. In fact, we'd already found her."

"How?"

"We're a detective agency, that's how. But according to Santiago, she was lying about something that happened back then too. So we figured a direct interrogation wouldn't work."

"You sent her journals instead."

Yes.

"How did you get that information?"

"That I don't know."

"And then it was Lonnie Berger's job to spy on her."

She didn't bother replying.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Actually, this is kind of a relief, you finding out. It felt okay when I thought you might be a killer. Now it just feels sleazy." I rose. "I might want you to testify." "I won't." "Yeah," I said. "I hear that all the time."

Chapter 32

Loren Muse was doing research on the Perez family.

Funny thing she noticed right away. The Perezes owned that bar, the one where Gil Perez had met up with Cope. Muse found that interesting. They'd been a family of poor immigrants, and now they had a net worth in excess of more than four million dollars. Of course, if you start with close to a million nearly twenty years ago, even if you just invested reasonably well, that number would make sense.

She was wondering what that meant, if anything, when the phone call came in. She reached for the receiver and jammed it up between her shoulder and ear.

"Muse here."

"Yo, sweetums, its Andrew."

Andrew Barrett was her connection at JohnJay College, the lab guy. He was supposed to go out this morning to the old campsite and start searching for the body with his new radar machine. "Sweetums?"

"I only work with machines," he said. "I'm not good with people."

"I see. So is there a problem?"

"Uh, not really."

There was a funny hum in his voice.

"Have you gotten out to the site yet?" she asked.

"You kidding? Of course we did. Soon as you gave me the okay, I was, like, so there. We drove out last night, stayed at some Motel 6, started working at first light."

"So?"

"So we're in the woods, right? And we start searching. The XRJ- that's the name of the machine, the XRJ-was acting a little funny, but we got it revved up pretty good. Oh, I brought a couple of the students with me. That's okay, right?"

"I don't care."

"I didn't think you would. You don't know them. I mean, why would you? They're good kids, you know, excited about getting some field-work. You remember how it is. A real case. They were Googling the case all night, reading up on the camp and stuff."

"Andrew?"

"Right, sorry. Like I said, good with machines, not so good with people. Of course, I don't teach machines, do I? I mean the students are people, flesh and blood, but still." He cleared his throat. "So anyway, you know how I said this new radar machine-the XRJ-is a miracle worker?"

"Yes."

"Well, I was right."

Muse switched hands. "Are you saying…?"

"I'm saying you should get out here pronto. The ME is on her way, but you'll want to see this for yourself."

Detective York's phone rang. He picked it up. "York." "Hey, it's Max down at the lab."

Max Reynolds was their lab liaison on this case. This was a new thing down at the lab. Lab liaison. Every time you had a murder case, you got a new one. York liked this kid. He was smart and knew to just give him the information. Some of the new lab guys watched too many TV shows and thought an explanation monologue was mandatory.

"What's up, Max?" "I got the results back on the carpet-fiber test. You know, the one on your Manolo Santiago corpse."

Okay

Usually the liaison just sent a report.

"Something unusual?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"The fibers are old."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"This test is usually a given. Car manufacturers all use the same carpet sources. So you might find GM and maybe a five-year window of when it might have been. Sometimes you get luckier. The color was only used in one kind of model and only for one year. That sorta thing. So the report, well, you know this, the report will read Ford-manufactured car, gray interior, 1999 through 2004. Something like that."

"Right."

"This carpet fiber is old."

"Maybe it isn't from a car. Maybe someone wrapped him up in an old carpet."