“She may have removed them quite early in her employment, early enough that her relationship with him was still going on.”

“So it wasn’t a question of whom she married—or was intimate with—it was a matter of keeping her past a secret from everyone.”

“And one reason for doing that may have been in order to hide from one person who had the power to destroy everything she had built, perhaps even to kill her.”

“She certainly did an effective job of it. The police haven’t found her, a private detective failed, and although you’ve come closer than anyone else, no one has answered your ad in the Indiana paper. All of which means she’s well hidden or dead, and if she’s dead, her body has been well hidden.” She looked down at her notes. “Tell me again what the neighbor, Dickie Foster, said.”

“They moved in as newlyweds about seven years ago, so they lived there for two of the years Natalie was there. Early on they met her in the elevator with a man she introduced as her brother, possibly named Terry. They had a casual acquaintanceship, but when Natalie moved out, after very excitedly telling Dickie she was being interviewed for a great job, she dropped the Fosters a postcard from somewhere.”

Joseph smiled. “And that somewhere may be crucial. What this seems to mean, Chris, is that the job with Hopkins and Jewell was a turning point in Natalie’s life. She had no qualms about sending them a resumé and references, but once she was on their payroll, she wanted that information to go no further.”

“And she moved in the middle of the month, as though she couldn’t wait to get out of the Gramercy Park apartment,” I added. “Maybe he came back. Maybe she married—or knew—this man in her early to mid twenties, got away from him, moved to New York, thought she was free of him. Then one day she sees him, or he finds her and she becomes terrified. She changes jobs, moves, leaves no forwarding address, hoping to escape from him.”

“It would seem she did for five years.”

“And then he saw her at the parade,” I said, feeling a shiver.

“What do you know about this man Martin Jewell?”

“Only that he seems very successful at his job, that he and his partner started with very little and have built up a lucrative business. Do you think he could be involved in this?”

“He sounds like a man who piles his plate a little too high. I’m sure there are men who manage to maintain several relationships at one time, but from where I sit, it sounds as though it can’t be easy.” She pulled a sheet of paper closer to her. “Let’s see who we have. The husband, of course, although both you and Jack don’t think he’s a serious candidate for murder. The nameless abusive husband or lover who’s been after her for years. Or, as you suggested, perhaps a fitting but unexciting husband that she simply wanted to get away from.”

“In which case she’s still alive somewhere.”

“Certainly a happier ending,” Joseph said. “Then there’s the elusive brother or lover who may be named Terry. It would certainly be nice to find him, wouldn’t it?”

“He might know a great deal about her, and if he cared, he would help. But I have no idea where to look or even if his last name is Miller.”

Joseph picked up the ring of keys. “I’m still bothered, Chris. I’m not sure I can put into words what it is, but this house key is a problem for me.”

“I’ll call the super when I get home.”

—

It wasn’t as easy as picking up the phone. I hadn’t gotten the super’s name and it hadn’t occurred to me to ask for her phone number. But a call to Dickie Foster gave me both and a call to Mrs. Franco gave me the additional information that Joseph wanted.

“Sure she gave us the key. I can’t remember now whether she handed it to me or left it in the apartment, but I got it back.”

“Was it an original or a copy?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It looked like the real thing to me.”

I thanked her and was hanging up when she said, “You still there?”

“Yes. Is there something else?”

“I was talking to my husband about Natalie after you were here. He said some guy came around a couple of years ago asking about her.”

“Really? Asking what?”

“Where she moved to. Rich didn’t tell him because he didn’t know and the guy left.”

“Did he leave a name or address?”

“I don’t think so, but he said he was Natalie’s brother.”

Interesting. “Thanks for telling me, Mrs. Franco.” The news gave me a chill. Maybe someone had been looking for her for a long time, someone up to no good.

I didn’t bother telling her I still had a key that opened that door. When this was all over I would see to it that the key was returned.

—

The next day I taught my class, came home, and prepared my lesson for the following Tuesday, just in case something happened and I didn’t have much time. It turned out to be lucky that I did.

Late in the afternoon Sandy called. “I just got a response,” he said, but he didn’t sound happy. “It was a man’s voice. He said, ‘You’ll never find her.’ ”

19

“So it wasn’t much of a conversation,” Jack said.

“It was very short.” He had just come home and we were at the kitchen table, as usual. “He picked up the phone—he’s been answering it since yesterday morning without letting calls go through his secretary—and a man said, ‘You looking for Natalie Miller?’ and he said he was and asked if the man had any information. And the man said, ‘She’s been missing since Thanksgiving Day two years ago and you’ll never find her.’ ”

“That sounds like our man. You didn’t mention Thanksgiving Day in the ad, did you?”

“No, but the people I’ve talked to know that’s when she disappeared.”

“But they don’t know you put an ad in an Indiana newspaper.”

“Only you and Sandy know.”

“And there’s no way of knowing if the call came from Indiana or next door.”

“No way that I can think of.”

“I suppose it’s too much to ask if he recognized an accent or an age in the voice.”

“He said the only thing he was sure of was that it was male and he spoke English.”

“Look, Chris, it means you’re in the right area. Either this guy read your ad or someone out there read it and told him about it. Either way, there’s a connection between Natalie Miller and that part of Indiana.”

“But thousands of people must have read those newspapers. Why should the only person to call be someone who wishes Natalie ill?”

“I can’t answer that. Let me make a suggestion. I’ve been thinking about the fact that she changed her looks. There was a forensic sculptor that used to work at the Police Academy years ago. He was actually a sergeant for a long time and there was some trouble, I don’t know the details, and he retired kind of suddenly and left New York. He lives somewhere over in Broome County on the southern tier—I can get his address from the Pension Section—and maybe you can use your charm on him.”

“I don’t understand. Don’t these people take a picture of someone a long time ago and project what they’d look like today?”

“Sure, but they can do the reverse, too. They can take what you look like today and go back in time to when you were younger.”

“So someone in Indiana who doesn’t recognize today’s Natalie might recognize her as a high school graduate.”

“Right.”

“You seem to think it’ll be tough getting him to talk to me.”

“From what I’ve heard, he lives alone in a shack that isn’t much better than a chicken coop. A guy I know once made a trip out there to see him and he was turned away pretty nastily.”

I looked across the table at him. “Where did we leave the book on charm? I think I have some serious reading to do.”