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suspect
I’m not the patient type. I can help. I know how to surf the
Internet. I’ll also check Google Earth for places I might have
been. We’ve done some of that already.”
    “Anything like that can be useful. I’ll work
on getting somebody interested in writing an article about you that
people who know you might read. However, that will be hard to do
until we have more information about you. You’re not a celebrity,
and we don’t know what part of the country to concentrate on. It
would be nice if we could get you on Oprah or a news show.
Unfortunately, that puts you in competition with half the world.
Everybody wants their fifteen minutes of fame. If you remember
things you’ve done, where you might have lived, trips you’ve
taken—every piece of information helps. Rigo, I’m sure you won’t
mind exposing her to different activities to see if anything jogs
her memory.”
    “Aye aye, sir.”
    ***
    This was the third evening meal Carol had
eaten with Tina and Ernie. Rigo was at the restaurant. Sunday
evening was one of their busiest times. Carol helped Tina prepare
the food, something she enjoyed doing. She was learning about
Mexican cooking. At the table, Carol asked them when they came to
the United States.
    Ernie said, “We were both born in Mexico,
but we met here. We came over many years ago. Our children were
born here.”
    “Do you ever go back?”
    “My mother still lives there, in a little
town south of the border. She won’t leave. We go there at least
once a year to see her.”
    Tina had been watching Carol. “You know,
dear, you eat like the English.”
    “I do?” Carol hadn’t paid any attention to
the way she was eating.
    “Yes. You always keep your fork in your left
hand. You don’t change hands like Americans do.”
    Carol compared the way she was holding her
fork to the method used by Tina and Ernie. When cutting and eating
meat, they constantly changed hands. She didn’t. She held the fork
in her left hand with the tines pointed toward the plate and her
index finger along the back. The knife was in her right hand with
her index finger on the top.
    “I didn’t realize it.”
    “Another thing. When we were buying you
underwear, you referred to panties as knickers. That’s English
terminology.”
    Ernie was excited. “Those are clues. You’ve
obviously spent time in Great Britain. When we went there, we were
amused to watch them eat—and they were amused by us.”
    The significance dawned on Carol. “My God.
That’s right. I’m sure I’ve been in London. I have a picture of the
London tube system in my head.”
    Tina looked thoughtful. “You must have been
there for a while, and yet you don’t have a trace of an
accent.”
    “I can speak English English.” Carol was
confident she could imitate Winston Churchill. She lowered her
voice. “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the
landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets,
we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”
    “Bravo.” Ernie and Tina clapped. “You’ve got
to pass this information on to Frances.”
    “I’ll call her right after dinner.”
     
    CHAPTER 6
    Frances was doing a routine check of her
e-mail on Tuesday morning when one caught her eye. The subject was
“Carol Golden.” She quickly read the rest of it:
     
    Hi Frances,
     
    I am a probate attorney in Chapel Hill, NC.
I first heard of you 2 years ago when the daughter of one of my
clients went missing. I have been checking your website weekly
since then since you are in the business of identifying dead
people, hoping that if Cynthia Sakai (the missing girl) is dead
that someone might have contacted you to identify her body. I
believe I even emailed you information about her at one time.
     
    My clients are a wealthy couple in Chapel
Hill—excuse me, were a wealthy couple because they were both killed
in the crash of their private plane in the Atlantic about a month
ago, along with their son, Michael.