„Appreciate that.“

„I’ll go get my father,“ she said as she rose. „You’re sure you won’t have coffee? Tea? It’s bitter out there today.“

„I wouldn’t mind either,“ Peabody put in. „Dealer’s choice. The lieutenant’s coffee – always black.“

„Fine. I’ll be back in a few. Make yourselves comfortable.“

„She was a little embarrassed about the Hopkins thing. She wanted to serve us something,“ Peabody said when Maeve left the room. „Makes it easier for her.“

„Whatever floats.“ Eve got to her feet, wandered the room. It had a settled, family feel about it, with a thin sheen of class. The photos were arty black-and-whites of cities – old-timey stuff. She was frowning over one when Buchanan came in. Like his daughter, he was wearing at-home clothes. And still managed to look dignified in a blue sweater and gray pants.

„Ladies. What can I do for you?“

„You have a beautiful home, Mr. Buchanan,“ Peabody began. „Some wonderful old pieces. Lieutenant, it makes me wonder if Roarke’s ever bought anything from Mr. Buchanan.“

„Roarke?“ Buchanan gave Peabody a puzzled look. „He has acquired a few pieces from us. You’re not saying he’s a suspect in this.“

„No. He’s Lieutenant Dallas’s husband.“

„Of course, I forgot for a moment.“ He shifted his gaze to Eve with a smile. „My business keeps me so much in the past, current events sometimes pass me by.“

„I bet. And speaking of the past,“ Eve continued, „we’re interested in any letters, journals, diaries you might have that pertain to Bobbie Bray.“

„That’s a name I’ve heard countless times today. Maeve might have told you that’s why we decided to work from home. And here she is now.“

Maeve wheeled in a cart holding china pots and cups.

„Just what we need. I’ve put the ‘links on auto,“ her father told her. „We can take a short break. Letters.“ He took a seat while Maeve poured coffee and tea. „We do have a few she wrote to friends in San Francisco in 1968 and 1969. And one of our prizes is a workbook containing drafts of some of her song lyrics. It could, in a way, be considered a kind of diary as well. She wrote down some of her thoughts in it, or notes to herself. Little reminders. I’ve fielded countless inquiries about just that this morning. Including one from a Cliff Gill.“

„Hopkins’s son?“

„So he said. He was very upset, nearly incoherent really.“ Buchanan patted Maeve’s hand when she passed him a cup. „Understandable under the circumstances.“

„And he was looking specifically for letters?“ Eve asked.

„He said his father had mentioned letters, a bombshell as he put it. Mr. Gill understood his father and I had done business and hoped I might know what it was about. I think he hopes to clear his family name.“

„You going to help him with that?“

„I don’t see how.“ Buchanan spread his hands. „Nothing I have pertains.“

„If there was something that pertained, or correspondence written near the time of her disappearance, would you know about it?“

He pursed his lips in thought. „I can certainly put out feelers. There are always rumors, of course. Several years ago someone tried to auction off what they claimed was a letter written by Bobbie two years after her disappearance. It was a forgery, and there was quite a scandal.“

„There have been photos, too,“ Maeve added. „Purportedly taken of Bobbie after she went missing. None have ever been authenticated.“

„Exactly.“ Buchanan nodded. „So substantiating the rumors and the claims, well, that’s a different matter. Do you know of correspondence from that time, Lieutenant?“

„I’ve got a source claiming there was some.“

„Really.“ His eyes brightened. „If they’re authentic, acquiring them would be quite a coup.“

„Were you name-dropping, Peabody?“ Eve gave her partner a mild look as she slid behind the wheel.

„Roarke’s done business there before, and you guys went there together. But he doesn’t mention Roarke at all. And being in business, I figured Buchanan would keep track of his more well-heeled clients, you know, and should’ve made an immediate connection.“

„Yeah, you’d think. Plausible reason he didn’t.“

„You’d wondered, too.“

„I wonder all kinds of things. Let’s wonder our way over to talk to Cliff Gill.“

Like Bygones, the dance school was locked up tight. But as Fanny Gill lived in the apartment overhead, it was a short trip.

Cliff answered looking flushed and harassed. „Thank God! I was about to contact you.“

„About?“

„We had to close the school.“ He took a quick look up and down the narrow hallway then gestured them inside. „I had to give my mother a soother.“

„Because?“

„Oh, this is a horrible mess. I’m having a Bloody Mary.“

Unlike the Buchanan brownstone, Fanny’s apartment was full of bright, clashing colors, a lot of filmy fabrics and chrome. Artistic funk, Eve supposed. It was seriously lived in to the point of messy.

Cliff was looking pretty lived-in himself, Eve noted. He hadn’t shaved, and it looked like he’d slept in the sweats he was wearing. Shadows dogged his eyes.

„I stayed the night here,“ he began as he stood in the adjoining kitchen pouring vodka. „People came into the studio yesterday afternoon, some of them saying horrible things. Or they’d just call, leaving horrible, nasty transmissions. I’ve turned her ‘links off. She just can’t take any more.“

He added enough tomato juice and Tabasco to turn the vodka muddy red, then took a quick gulp. „Apparently we’re being painted with the same brush as my grandfather. Spawn of Satan.“ He took another long drink, then blushed. „I’m sorry. I’m sorry, what can I get you?“

„We’re fine,“ Eve told him. „Mr. Gill, have you been threatened?“

„With everything from eternal damnation to public flogging. My mother doesn’t deserve this, Lieutenant. She’s done nothing but choose poorly in the husband department, which she rectified. At least I carry the same blood as Hopkins.“ His mouth went grim. „If you think along those lines.“

„Do you?“

„I don’t know what I think any more.“ He came back into the living area, dropped onto a candy-pink sofa heaped with fluffy pillows. „At least I know what to feel now. Rage, and a little terror.“

„Did you report any of the threats?“

„She asked me not to.“ He closed his eyes, seemed to gather some tattered rags of composure. „She’s embarrassed and angry. Or she started out that way. She didn’t want to make a big deal about it. But it just kept up. She handles things, my mother, she doesn’t fall apart. But this has just knocked her flat. She’s afraid we’ll lose the school, all the publicity, the scandal. She’s worked so hard, and now this.“

„I want you to make a copy of any of the transmissions regarding this. We’ll take care of it.“

„Okay. Okay.“ He scooped his fingers through his disordered hair. „That’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? I’m just not thinking straight. I can’t see what I should do.“

„You contacted the owner of a shop called Bygones. Care to tell me why?“

„Bygones? Oh, oh, right. Mr. Buchanan. My father sold him some memorabilia. I think maybe Buchanan was one of the backers on Number Twelve. My father mentioned him when I gave him the five hundred. Said something like Bygones may be Bygones, but he wouldn’t be nickel-and-diming it any more. How he’d pay me back the five ten times over because he was about to hit the jackpot.“

„Any specific jackpot?“

„He talked a lot, my father. Bragged, actually, and a lot of the bragging was just hot air. But he said he’d been holding onto an ace in the hole, waiting for the right time. It was coming up.“

„What was his hole card?“

„Can’t say he actually had one.“ Cliff heaved out a breath. „Honestly, I didn’t really listen because it was the same old, same old to me. And I wanted to get him moving before my mother got wind of the loan. But he said something about letters Bobbie Bray had written. A bombshell, he said, that was going to give Number Twelve just the push he needed. I didn’t pay much attention at the time because he was mostly full of crap.“