False Mermaid

“Yup. The fancy running shoes were the same; blood on the outside was a match to the same cold-case vic, Tríona Hallett. And inside, the same unknown female who wore the shirt.”

Cordova sank down into his chair. Peter Hallett was slipping away from them—again. “You’re absolutely positive it’s a female?”

“As positive as any forensic scientist will admit to being. Sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear. Since we got no hits in the database, it’s going to be tough to find out who our mystery woman is—unless you have some idea.”

“I might.”

“We’d need a known sample to run a comparison.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He hung up the phone. Another round of evidence pointing to Miranda Staunton. There was also her direct link with Natalie Russo, through the rowing club. A strong rower like Miranda must have good upper body strength—enough to render a human face unrecognizable? And where was he going to get a known sample from Miranda Staunton? Frank let his memory travel back to the last time he’d seen her—in the rowing club locker room. He picked up the phone.

When Sarah Cates met him at the door of the boathouse thirty minutes later, she was dressed not in workout gear, as he’d expected, but in a dark blue-green suit that set off the color of her eyes. “Welcome back, Detective. What can I do for you this time?”

“I need to get into the women’s locker room again.”

Sarah Cates led the way, again making sure the coast was clear before bringing Frank inside the locker room. He made a beeline for the bench where he’d seen Miranda lacing up those odd-looking shoes. Sliding an evidence envelope from his pocket, he opened his penknife and crouched down beside the bench. There it was, the wad of chewing gum Miranda had stuck on the underside of the plank two days ago. He prized the gum loose and let it drop into the envelope.

Sarah Cates spoke behind him. “I have a question, when you’re finished there.”

“Done,” Frank said, climbing to his feet. “What’s your question?”

“You asked me before if anyone might have resented Natalie’s ability—”

“You said you couldn’t think of anyone.”

“But the question got me thinking. The finals were screwy at one of our big races that year. There was some controversy about handicapping. I don’t even remember what the disagreement was about; I just know the person who took second thought she should have won. The judges’ decision was final. She was pretty steamed—”

“Who are we talking about?”

“You asked me if I knew her last time you were here—Miranda Staunton.”

“You mentioned that she joined the club right after college.”

“And we were lucky to have her. Galliard had a great rowing program—really top class.”

6

At six-thirty, Frank Cordova stood looking down into the casket at his brother’s face. Composed, expressionless—completely unlike the way it had been when he was alive. Frank touched Chago’s cheek, knowing it would be cold, but he was surprised nonetheless. Like a wax figure, a puppet. Not the real Chago. He knew Veronica and Luis were worried that he might lose it again, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. Chago was beyond anyone’s help now. He wished he could believe what Veronica said, that Chago was with their mother in heaven now, that there was a reward for those who had suffered, but he could not believe it. He had tried.

Frank turned away and sat down in the back row of chairs, watching his sister greet the mourners at the door. She saw him sitting, and came to rest her feet beside him. As a boy, he had thought her the most beautiful of his sisters, and she still was. A little extra bulk around the middle now proclaimed her age, but Veronica’s hands and feet had always been small and delicate, and her face remained as lovely as ever. He could see the worry in her eyes.

“I’m all right, Noni. I won’t make any trouble.”

“You know that’s not what I’m worried about, Paco.” She put an arm around him and squeezed his hand. “We never knew it was so bad for you and Chago, I swear. We never would have left, Mila and Luisa and I, but we needed those jobs at the luggage factory up here. We didn’t know how bad things were back home. Mami always wanted to bring you here, you and Chago, to have a better life, I know she did, but she couldn’t leave Papi. She knew he had the spirit sickness. She even brought in the healer, the curandero—”

“The old man in white? I thought he came for Chago.”

“No, for Papi. You were too young to understand, Paco. We didn’t know how much you would remember, how much of it you or Chago would even understand. He didn’t know what he was doing, Paco, it was the sickness inside him, the spirit sickness. He never would have hurt Mami like that, I know.” She laid a hand on his chest. “You may look like him, Paco, but you are not Papi. Do you hear me? You must never worry about that.”