L ET ME THINK out loud for a moment.” Decker sat at his desk. Across from him were Marge and Oliver, awaiting further instructions. “Two cases: Jane Doe and Roseanne Dresden. Jane is a homicide…Roseanne?” He shrugged. “We’re reserving judgment on her. Recovery’s still digging, but it’s been a while. Someone has to talk to the husband.”

“And ask him what?” Oliver asked. “Did you kill your wife?”

Decker answered, “The fact is we don’t know if she’s even dead. We do suspect that the Dresden marriage was in trouble. David Rottiger and Arielle Toombs said that the couple was headed for divorce. Plus, Arielle told me that Roseanne had broken up with a paramour named Raymond Holmes six months prior to her death. She said he didn’t take it well. For all we know, he could be involved.”

A pause.

“We have to approach Ivan Dresden in a nonthreatening way. I think it’s far more likely that he’ll talk to us if he thinks we’re investigating a missing person rather than a homicide. So far that’s true.”

Marge said, “If the guy is as money hungry as all say, we can tell him insurance won’t settle until they find a body.”

“That’s probably true,” Oliver said.

“Up to a point,” Decker said. “Anyway, we can tell him that the police are investigating her whereabouts for insurance purposes. Since her body hasn’t turned up, we’re thinking that she may be alive.”

Oliver said, “What are we after, Loo?”

Decker said. “First, we need to hear his story. Second, it would be helpful if we could obtain his permission to pull phone records, credit-card receipts, bank records, to see if there’s been any activity since she disappeared. We can tell Ivan that it will be an important part of the insurance investigation.”

“Do we bring up the old flame, Ray?” Marge asked.

“Use your discretion.”

Marge said to Oliver, “You call up Ivan or should I?”

“You can do it. I’d rather call up Ivan’s lap-dancer friend.”

“Lap-dancer friend?” Decker asked.

“Yeah, David Rottiger told me Ivan had a thing for a lap-dancer friend of his. Ivan met her at one of Rottiger’s parties.”

“Interesting.” Decker nodded. “Do you have name?”

“No, Rottiger wouldn’t give it to me, and at the time, there was no reason to push. But I know where she works and I’d be happy to conduct a field interview with her.”

“I bet.” Decker smiled. “Actually, she may be a legitimate source of info later on. But first talk to Ivan. And see if you can conduct the interview in his condo because it’ll give you an opportunity to see the way he’s living. Get on his good side. We’re trying to wrest permission from him to look at Roseanne’s paperwork. Once we sort through all the credit slips, the bank statements, and the phone records, we’ll get a clearer idea about her last days.”

Oliver said, “Have you told Farley Lodestone about the latest developments?”

“Not yet.” Decker sighed. “This is not going to improve his trust in the justice system. If he wasn’t so bereaved, I’m sure he’d gloat.”

Marge said, “You know, if Roseanne was on flight 1324, there could be someone who worked the gate that remembers seeing her board the plane. I’d like to go down to WestAir’s airport counter next week and talk to the desk people.”

“They’re only going to refer you to the task force,” Oliver said.

“Maybe woman-to-woman, I can get some information. Now that Roseanne’s been missing for so long, I’d like to take one more crack at it.”

Decker said, “I think it’s a good idea. So we’ve got some strategies mapped out with Roseanne. Let’s move on to problem number two-our skeletal Jane Doe, who was probably a homicide. We need to identify the body and we can’t put a face on the bones because the bones are too delicate to mess with. So what can we do? We can find out when the apartment building went up. We can also locate someone involved with Priscilla and the Major to see if we can date the jacket.”

“Wanda Bontemps is on the computer trying to get a bead on the singing duo,” Marge said. “I did manage to Google them right before the meeting. Over five hundred thousand references, but no official Web site. How old would either of them be?”

“Sixties.” Not all that far from his age, Decker thought. “While Wanda is tracking down the duo, somebody needs to go down to building and safety and find out when the apartment building went up. Let’s go with Lee Wang and Jules Chatham. Both of them are good with bureaucracy, paper shuffling, and details.”

“Chatham is on vacation,” Marge said. “I think Lee is at his desk. I’ll talk to him.”

Oliver said, “You’re talking about a twenty-five-maybe thirty-year-old building. That’s a lot of tenants, Loo.”

“Someone must have a record of everyone who rented there for tax purposes. Talk to the current owners and work backward. I’ll draw up an assignment schedule. We can confer again tomorrow morning. Maybe by then Wanda will have found a location for Priscilla and the Major.”

“Are you going to wait until the morning to call Lodestone?” Oliver asked.

“No, I’m going to call Lodestone as soon as you leave. Then I’m going to go home and forget about all this stuff. It’s Shabbos tonight and that means I get a day of rest. And even if I don’t get my day of rest, I’m at least entitled to a last supper.”

MUNCHING A PEANUT-BUTTER-AND-BANANA sandwich, Wanda was still at the computer when Oliver and Marge came out of Decker’s office. She didn’t bother to look up from the screen as she spoke. “The wonders of modern technology. Almost everyone in the universe is just a click away.”

Oliver said, “What have you found out about them?”

“First off, the original duo is a thing of the past. The original Major-Huntley Barrett-has been dead for twelve years. Priscilla used to perform with another guy, Kendrick Springer, but the fans and the reviewers didn’t like him at all. You should read the comments.” She shook her head in dismay. “Passions ran very high about Huntley’s replacement.”

“Does Priscilla still perform?” Marge asked.

Bontemps shrugged. “That’s an interesting question. She doesn’t have an official Web site, but she does have an agent. I can’t find any current concert dates for her. Last one I found was seven years ago.” She looked at her notepad, tore off the top sheet of paper, and gave it to Oliver. “Her agent.”

Oliver glanced at the slip of paper. Miles Marlowe with a phone number. It was after six and Marlowe was probably gone, but he’d leave a phone message. “Anything else?”

She handed him a four-inch stack of paper. “Everything I’ve pulled up and thought worth printing, I printed for you.”

“Jeez, I feel a little guilty.” Oliver hefted the pile. “Like I just nuked a forest or something.”

Bontemps smiled. “Sir, don’t take this wrong, but I would have never thought you to be the environmentally conscious type.”

“Don’t tell anyone, Wanda, but I even recycle.”

PRISCILLA AND THE Major’s last top-ten song had been recorded over twenty-eight years ago, but they had left behind a rich legacy of blogs, K-Right (order by toll-free number, only available through this TV offer) boxed-set CDs, and a host of sixtysomething fans wishing nostalgically for singable melodies and clean lyrics. As Oliver read through the stack of computer information, he discovered that though the couple had divorced, they had remained friendly up to the day the Major had died. Priscilla had moved to Florida specifically to minister to him during the final months of his life. As a result, the Major, the business brains behind the duo’s success, had left her his very sizable estate, including a collection of sixty vintage guitars, most of which Priscilla had auctioned off. There had been a daughter and it had been big news when Priscilla had given birth, but what happened to the girl was anyone’s guess.