Latreece only chuckled.

Mary wracked her brain. “Did he ever mention to you any trips he took out of town? Like when he came back?”

“No.”

“But he’d have to go out of town to find a place, to buy it, and to check on it once in a while.” Mary was thinking out loud. “If it needed work, he’d have to work on it, or close it up for the winter, or do whatever people do.”

“Winterize.”

“Whatever.” Mary had no idea.

“Gotta turn off the water, wrap up the hot water heater, put some dehumidifiers in, so mold won’t grow on the walls.”

“How do you know that?”

“Everybody knows that.”

“I don’t.” Mary smiled.

“That’s because you’re a city girl.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Hell, no. Why’d you think that? Because I’m black?”

Yes. “No.”

“I’m a country girl from up north, near the Poconos. I grew up in Bonnyhart, north of the Delaware Water Gap. You know the area?”

“I’ve heard of it but I’ve never been there.”

“Oh, it’s a beautiful place, near the Jersey border. Don’t get me started. Trees, forests, all natural. You can walk in the woods forever. I love it up there.” Latreece’s grin transformed her face. “The air is so fresh, and the people so nice. My daughter loves it, too. I go up all the time to see my daddy, who still lives there. We were the only black family in town, but we had been there so long, we were accepted. Everybody was friendly, too. Everybody was a neighbor, not like here.”

Mary let go of the irony. “You grew up there?”

“Sure did. We lived in a cabin in the woods. Daddy hunted, and I took care of the chickens and a pig we had. Oinker. We had deer meatballs, deer jerky, deer everything. We practically lived off the land.”

“I thought the Poconos were more developed than that. I mean, you see all the honeymoon packages.”

“Not in Bonnyhart, even now. There was nobody there. You could walk for days and not see another person.” Latreece’s voice grew lighter. “It’s the most beautiful place in the world and it’s right here, in Pennsylvania.”

Mary’s thoughts raced ahead. “Did you ever tell Bobby about this town?”

“Sure.” Latreece laughed. “You couldn’t shut me up about it. My daughter, neither. He used to tease me all the time. He said, ‘If I had a dime for every time you talked about Bonnyhart, I’d be set for life.’” Suddenly her eyes widened, and Mary had the same thought.

“Maybe that’s where he bought?” She felt a tingle of excitement. “Can you give me directions to Bonnyhart?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

M ary listened to the phone ring three times, then Anthony’s voicemail came on, so she said, “Sorry I didn’t call you back. If you’re there, would you pick up?” She listened to the silence, then swung the car onto Broad Street. “I’m not blowing you off, but I got held up at my meeting, and I’m sorry. Please call when you can.”

She pressed End, then put her emotions aside. She couldn’t worry about her love life now; she had a decent lead to follow. She could be up there in three hours. She started the ignition, hit the gas, and headed for Broad Street, toward the Expressway. She set the phone on the passenger seat, in case Anthony called back.

But she had a feeling that that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Three hours, one tank of gas, and two Mobil-station hot dogs later, Anthony hadn’t called back, but Mary finally pulled into Bonnyhart, a town marked by a closed gas station. Dense stormclouds had swallowed the sun, darkening the sky prematurely, and rain had begun to fall hard. The windshield wipers pounded, but Mary was having trouble seeing the paved highway that cut through the woods. There wasn’t a house or a person in sight, and she’d passed the last car fifteen minutes ago, even though this would be rush hour anywhere else in the world. She pulled over to the side of the road, gravel and rocks popping and rumbling under her tires.

She put the car in park and checked her watch. Almost five o’clock. Too late to find any hall of records to look up the recorded deeds, but no matter; Bobby wouldn’t have bought the house under his real name, anyway. She took a sip of cold coffee, thinking how to go about this. Then she remembered she’d seen a realtor’s sign at the last town. It could be a good place to start, and she didn’t have much time before dark. She hit the gas, then turned the car around and doubled back.

It was raining harder by the time she reached the clapboard house, which had been converted to contain two small businesses, the realtor and a taxidermist. Lights were on inside, and Mary parked in the almost-empty lot, next to a hand-lettered sign: Deer! Bear! Elk! Antelope! Your quality turkey-taxidermy mount will give you a sense of pride!

Mary wasn’t in South Philly anymore. She cut the ignition, grabbed her bag, and held it over her head as she dashed out into the rain, running past the taxidermy store to the realtor’s office. She went to the small front porch, then shook herself off, scanning photos of houses posted in the window. They were in the $100,000 to $200,000 range, two and three bedrooms, and underneath were the usual hackneyed captions: ALL THE BELLS AND WHISTLES; HANDY-MAN SPECIAL; COZY RANCH; LAKE-VIEW MASTERPIECE; and DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH. It was the last photo that caught her eye, a brown ranch with the caption TOTAL PRIVACY.

Perfect. Mary went inside, and a little bell went off above the door, letting someone know that she had come in. The small office contained three metal desks, each with an aged computer, and the front desk was littered with multicolored Beanie Babies. A middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair bustled from a door in the back, reapplying coral lipstick as she walked.

“Oh, my, I didn’t know anybody was here,” the woman said, with a fresh, if practiced, smile.

“Sorry if I startled you.”

“Are you lost? You look lost.” The woman twirled her lipstick closed, tossed it into a bulging makeup kit, then threw it in her purse. “Out-of-towners always get lost.”

Mary smiled. “How can you can tell I’m an out-of-towner?”

“No four-wheel drive and no flannel.” The realtor laughed, then she extended a hand with lacquered nails. “Julia O’Connell. Sorry about my bad manners.”

Mary introduced herself. “I know a guy who bought a second house up here, and he loves it. He wanted total privacy, he’s from Philly. He told me the address but I lost it, and now I can’t reach him on the cell. I’d love to see the house and was wondering if you sold it to him.”

“I only started last month and I haven’t sold anything. I’m on my second career and my third husband.” Julia laughed uncertainly. “Maybe one of the other gals worked with him. What’s his name?”

“Bobby Mancuso.” Mary held her breath, in the hope that the news of his murder hadn’t reached the boonies yet. Or betting that Bobby wouldn’t have given his real name when he bought his hideout. It wasn’t like he’d be applying for a mortgage, with proof of employment.

“Doesn’t sound familiar,” Julia answered, after a moment.

“He’s kind of eccentric, so he might have bought under a different name. Maybe you heard one of the other realtors talking about it. I think he might’ve paid in cash.”

“Cash!” Julia’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t hear anything about a cash deal, but like I say, I’m not here that long. I’m sure the owner, Mary Alice Raudenbush, would know, but she’s gone for the day and I’d hate to bother her at home. Maybe we should wait until your friend calls back.”

Mary thought a minute. “Are there other realtors that sell in Bonnyhart?”

“Locally, a few. Of course, anybody can sell anywhere these days. The MLS is online and such, and some of those Philly and New York realtors, they take their clients themselves, and we cooperate with ’em, you know.”