Steve felt his heart jump. “That’s wonderful! I’d like to arrange immediate extradition to bring him…”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s any hurry. Dmitri Kaminsky is dead.”
Steve felt his heart sink. “What?”
“We found his body a little while ago. His fingers had been chopped off, and he had been shot several times.”
“The Russian gangs have a quaint custom. First they chop off your fingers, then they let you bleed, and then they shoot you.”
“I see. Thank you, Inspector.”
Dead end. Steve sat there, staring at the wall. All his leads were disappearing. He realized how heavily he had been counting on Dmitri Kaminsky’s testimony.
Steve’s secretary interrupted his thoughts. “There’s a Mr. Timmons for you on line three.”
Steve looked at his watch. It was 5:55 P.M. He picked up the telephone. “Mr. Timmons?”
“Yes…I’m sorry I couldn’t return your calls earlier. I’ve been out of town for the past two days. What can I do for you?”
A lot, Steve thought. You can tell me how you faked those fingerprints. Steve chose his words carefully. “I’m calling about Julia Stanford. When you were in Boston recently, you checked out her fingerprints and…”
“Mr. Sloane…”
“Yes?”
“I’ve never been in Boston.”
Steve took a deep breath. “Mr. Timmons, according to the register at the Holiday Inn, you were here on…”
“Someone has been using my name.”
Steve listened, stunned. It was the final dead end, the last lead. “I don’t suppose you have any idea who it is?”
“Well, it’s very strange, Mr. Sloane. A woman claimed that I was in Boston and that I could identify her as Julia Stanford. I’d never seen her before in my life.”
Steve felt a surge of hope. “Do you know who she is?”
“Yes. Her name is Posner. Margo Posner.”
Steve picked up a pen. “Where can I reach her?”
“She’s at the Reed Mental Health Facility in Chicago.”
“Thanks a lot. I really appreciate this.”
“Let’s keep in touch. I’d like to know what’s going on myself. I don’t like people going around impersonating me.”
“Right.” Steve replaced the receiver. Margo Posner.
When Steve got home that evening, Julia was waiting to greet him.
“I fixed dinner,” she told him. “Well, I didn’t exactly fix it. Do you like Chinese food?”
He smiled. “Love it!”
“Good. We have eight cartons of it.”
When Steve walked into the dining room, the table was set with flowers and candles.
“Is there any news?” Julia asked.
Steve said cautiously, “We may have gotten our first break. I have the name of a woman who seems to be involved in this. I’m flying to Chicago in the morning to talk with her. I have a feeling we may have all the answers tomorrow.”
“That would be wonderful!” Julia said excitedly. “I’ll be so glad when this is over.”
“So will I,” Steve told her. Or will I? She’ll be a real part of the Stanford family—way out of my reach.
Dinner lasted two hours, and they were not even aware of what they were eating. They talked about everything and they talked about nothing, and it was as though they had known each other forever. They discussed the past and the present, and they carefully avoided talking about the future. There is no future for us, Steve thought unhappily.
Finally, reluctantly, Steve said, “Well, we’d better go to bed.”
She looked at him with raised eyebrows, and they both burst out laughing.
“What I meant…”
“I know what you meant. Good night, Steve.”
“Good night, Julia.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Early the following morning, Steve boarded a United flight for Chicago. From Chicago’s O’Hare Airport he took a taxi.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“The Reed Mental Health Facility.”
The driver turned around and looked at Steve. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just asking.”
At Reed, Steve approached the uniformed security guard at the front desk.
The guard looked up. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’d like to see Margo Posner.”
“Is she an employee?”
That had not occurred to Steve. “I’m not sure.”
The guard took a closer look at him. “You’re not sure?”
“All I know is that she’s here.”
The guard reached in a drawer and took out a roster with a list of names. After a moment, he said, “She doesn’t work here. Could she be a patient?”