Hope to Die

JC: I have it right here, and I’ve had one of my staff check Immigration records. It seems Mr Seidler left the United States on October 16th on a flight to Florence, but from what you say in your email he can only have stayed in Italy two days before catching a flight to London.

CG: Did he travel alone – from the States?

JC: Yes, it appears so.

CG: And is there anything you can tell me about the family?

JC: All I have right now is that the Seidlers moved to Brooklyn ten years ago, and prior to that were in Princeton. David Seidler was on the Political Sciences faculty there. And back before that they spent two semesters in the UK, in 1997. But you knew that already.

CG: And Mrs Seidler?

JC: Renee Seidler trained as a teacher after her postgrad and then taught junior high, but I have no record of her working since 2016. But putting it all together, it looks like that must have been around the time David was diagnosed, so I guess she gave it up to look after him.

CG: Diagnosed?

JC: He died last fall. The death certificate cites bowel cancer as the principal cause of death. Not a nice way to go.

CG: Were there other children?

JC: No, just Noah.

CG: And what do you have on him?

JC: Graduated high school with a GPA of 3.6 then got accepted on a liberal arts program at Columbia but deferred for a year, probably because his dad got sick. No criminal record, no trouble with law enforcement. Basically just a nice, bright kid.

CG: I assume you know that he was the victim of a fatal shooting?

JC: I’m aware. Have you spoken to his mom?

CG: We’ll be liaising with NYPD on that. But I’m afraid it’s not just a question of breaking the bad news: there are questions we need to ask about the circumstances of Noah’s birth.

JC: Yes, I have your note here – it says you believe he’s not the Seidlers’ biological child, as stated on his birth certificate and social security records, but a British baby that went missing in 1997? This ‘Milly Liar’ case?

CG: That’s right.

JC: Sounds like something out of Agatha Christie.

CG: I suspect it won’t end as neatly as that. More’s the pity.

JC: Please be sure to inform us when you have clarification – there could be consequences here. Possible fraud, conveying false or misleading information – you know the drill.

CG: Of course, we’ll certainly do that. Clearly, our first priority is to establish exactly what happened – what degree of involvement the Seidlers had.

JC: What does the birth mother say?

CG: Up till now she’s been sticking to her original story. But even she must realize she’s turning into King Canute on that one.

JC: [laughs]

The guy on the beach, right?

CG: Yeah, sorry.

JC: No worries. Well, if that’s everything, I have a family event at two o’clock. Let me know if I can help with anything else. You got a name at NYPD?

CG: No one specific, so if you –

JC: Sure, no problem. I’ll email over some details.

CG: Thank you. And thank you again for your time.

JC: You’re welcome. Enjoy your day.

* * *

It’s a bright cold morning in New York City. Clear skies but winter’s within touching distance and Ritchie Gonzalez and Marie Kimball pull on gloves as they get out of their car opposite the Seidlers’ house in Brooklyn Heights. It’s a brownstone: lower-ground floor, flight of steps up to an ornate porch, long windows, iron railings, planters. The sort of house people who don’t live there usually associate with New York, but very few New Yorkers actually get to own. The Seidlers have either made money or inherited it; perhaps a bit of both.

The two detectives stop on the front step and turn to face each other.

‘So how are we playing this?’ says Kimball. She only made Detective six months ago, so a fair proportion of what she gets to do each day is for the first time. Though telling a mother the child-that-isn’t-hers-after-all has turned up dead in a foreign country she might not even know he’d gone to definitely hasn’t cropped up before.

Gonzalez hasn’t done precisely this before either, not even in fifteen years. But he’s had a lot worse.

He gives a dry smile. ‘Start with the facts, see how she reacts. Take it from there.’

‘You think she’ll come in?’

‘Voluntarily? Let’s hope for the Brits’ sake she does, because otherwise this is going to get messy pretty damn fast. The minute she lawyers up, they’re sunk.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t,’ she says, shaking her head, ‘not if I was in her shoes. No way.’

‘Yeah, but not everyone’s as crabby as you, Kimball.’

She grins and he reaches to pull the bell. They hear it ringing somewhere back in the house, but there’s no answering noise, no sound of footsteps. Gonzalez rings again, then steps back to stare up at the house. No curtains twitching across, no faces at the window.

‘Looks like no one’s home.’

Kimball takes a few steps down towards the street and glances up and down. ‘Shall we try the neighbours?’

Gonzalez shrugs. ‘I guess so.’