“Right. And all the legal work for the family grows expensive. He’s had to sell assets already, and now he has to raise more money. He eventually goes free, but in the meantime his brother has died, his reputation is shot, and the best of his assets have gone to people who snub him. He’s left with the care of his brother’s widow and children, estate taxes, and an inheritance he’s been unable to properly manage while he’s dealt with his legal problems.”

“And it takes him a few years to get back on his feet,” Hailey said.

“Yes, and to reestablish himself in Las Piernas society. Did you find out the date of his marriage to Estelle?”

“He married her in June 1945. He eventually took over her father’s businesses, which increased his wealth enormously. His own businesses were doing much better then, so he didn’t come to her poor. He didn’t make the kind of money Linworth and Ducane made in the late 1930s-but he was better at manipulating. From what I could learn, he maneuvered them into positions where they had to come to him for supplies. Eventually, they were all doing a lot of business with one another.”

“When was the engagement announced?” I asked.

She looked through her notes. “March. There was a notice in the Society pages on March 23, 1945.”

“Two weeks before O’Connor’s sister was murdered,” I said. “I wonder if getting engaged to Estelle made him think about losing his chance with Lillian. And around that time the Express carried a story about how effective the new treatments for TB were.”

“Maybe it wasn’t as complicated as that,” Ethan said. “Maybe he was just biding his time, making sure that no one would see it as retaliation. If he had killed O’Connor’s sister right after the jury-tampering conviction was overturned, he would have been caught.”

“Do you really think Yeager is the one who killed her?” Hailey asked me.

“You mean, killed her himself rather than arranging it? I don’t know. Eric and Ian wouldn’t have been very old-not even out of grade school-so they didn’t help him. There’s this whole question of Harmon, though-or so I thought until the DNA came back.”

“No DNA samples on file for Mitch Yeager?” Ethan asked.

“No.”

“Too bad.”

“Why bother anyway?” Hailey said. “He’s so old, people won’t want him to go to jail. There are people who don’t want old Nazis to be punished. We don’t stand a chance. He’s going to throw a big old pity party for himself and people will buy into it. ‘I’m an old, old man who has served the community and the paper has always hated me.’ People will feel sorry for him. They won’t care about the dead.”

“It’s our job to make them care,” Ethan said. “To show them why they should. It shouldn’t be hard to do that, especially if he arranged the murder of a child. People want to see wrongdoing punished.”

“Well,” she said, staring right at him, “some people are found guilty of wrongdoing, and the world just seems to let them off with a slap on the wrist.”

That arrow found its mark, not surprisingly. He gathered his papers. He said to me, his voice not quite steady, “Forgive me-I’m not giving up, but I think we’ll have to talk more another time.”

He left.

Hailey shrugged, to all appearances unconcerned. I wasn’t exactly fooled by those appearances, but I was too furious at her to trust myself to speak.

“Do you want to know what I found out about the Ducanes?” she asked. “The business stuff is pretty boring, but I interviewed some people who knew the parents and they didn’t have much good to say.”

“Funny how some people are like that. I don’t think we should continue.”

“When do you want to meet again, then?”

“When is the big frost expected in hell?”

“Look, I know you’re mad at me because Ethan has you under his spell or whatever, but-”

“Oh no-Ethan wasn’t the witch in this meeting.”

“Don’t you think you should have asked me if I wanted to work with him, instead of just insisting on it?”

“No. Run upstairs and ask John or Lydia to explain to you why you are not in a democracy here. I obviously cannot get a single thing through to you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry about what I said about Ethan, all right? All right? So can we please just get back to business?”

“You’re apologizing to the wrong person. Apologize to the right one, and maybe by tomorrow I’ll change my mind about not continuing to work with you on this.”

I left her sitting there and went back to the newsroom. Ethan was nowhere to be seen.

I had no sooner reached my desk than the phone rang.

“Kelly,” I answered.

Nothing.

I hung up. It rang again almost immediately.

I picked it up and didn’t say a word.

A woman’s voice said, “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Yes, this is Irene Kelly.”

“Irene Kelly? I don’t know if you’ll remember me…you talked to me twenty years ago, but I didn’t tell you my name.”

“Betty Bradford,” I said. “I’m so glad you called.”

“I’m in Zeke Brennan’s office. He’s agreed you can be present when I talk to the police.”

63

T WO HOURS LATER, I WAS PART OF THE GATHERING IN ZEKE BRENNAN’S office. I hoped Betty Bradford felt as comfortable as I did with him. Over the years, the attorney had saved me from more than one legal tangle. Only people who’ve never been in that kind of jam make lawyer jokes. Zeke is one of my heroes.

Zeke held the meeting in his mid-size conference room, which had just the right number of chairs for the small crowd that was there. Betty, Zeke, and I were joined by one of Zeke’s assistants, the local D.A. and one of his assistants, Frank, a lieutenant and a captain from homicide, and Hailey, who was the last to join us.

Hailey had been paged by Lydia because next to me, she had the most background on the 1958 events, and since Zeke was my lawyer, the paper wanted to keep everything on the level and have another reporter there. Hailey looked more nervous than I thought she’d be-I supposed she was rattled because she was late. Zeke had already started talking when she walked in. She shot me a distressed look, then seemed to settle into the business at hand.

Betty looked nervous, too, but who could blame her? Although knowing she was the woman in the photos allowed me to see the resemblance, she seemed to have little in common with the blond floozy of the 1950s. She was in her sixties now. Her hair was carefully dyed to a natural-looking brown, her makeup was subtle and spare. She dressed conservatively.

The D.A. and Zeke had already come to a very clear-cut agreement about her protection from prosecution in exchange for information and later testimony-a negotiating process had been under way all day.

She had done a bit of negotiating with me, too. I could come to this meeting and bring one other reporter, but under no circumstances was she to be photographed. In exchange for an exclusive, the paper agreed.

She had contacted Zeke Brennan after reading about Max Ducane’s reward in the paper. She didn’t want the reward, and part of the agreement with the D.A. was that she would not receive it, and that in any announcements he made about the reward, it would be noted that it was her idea to refuse it.

“I came forward because Mr. Ducane seems like a good person, and he shouldn’t have to spend money for someone he isn’t even related to after all. I don’t want to make money from what happened to that missing child and from my part in his being kidnapped-I am deeply ashamed of having any part in that.”

She had wanted to come forward in 1978, but was afraid. “I have a new family, and a new life. My husband was living then, and my kids were all at home. My husband passed away two years ago, and my children are all married and moved away from here. This has been on my mind a lot, but I’ve been scared. So I sold my house, and I’m moving away from here just as soon as this is all settled and you don’t need me to testify or anything else. I knew I needed a good lawyer, and Mr. Brennan’s name was in the article about Mr. Ducane, so I contacted him.”