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collect herself, then said, “I'm sorry, Detective. It's just that I was counting on that settlement. I can't afford…” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Dogget told me it was open-and-shut.”
    “Dogget told you that because he wanted your help in tracking down James's family.”
    “James always said he didn't have a family.”
    “But you know better.” Alexander watched Ianna fold her hands together, a subconscious tick of discomfort. “I understand James has a brother.”
    “What does this have to do with his death?”
    “Maybe nothing,” Alexander said, “maybe a lot. If he told you that he had no family, how'd you know about the brother?”
    Ianna lowered her eyes. “One day, when James was out of town, I was cleaning in the bedroom, and I found a box full of his personal stuff.”
    “Where did you find the box?”
    Ianna narrowed her gaze at Alexander. “Why are you here, Detective? What does this have to do with a car accident?”
    “We came across some discrepancies in the accident investigation.”
    “What discrepancies?”
    “Where did you find the box?”
    “In a hiding place,” she said. “A false bottom under the bed frame. I had to move the bed away from the wall to get to it.”
    “While you were cleaning?”
    Now she smiled at Alexander. “I'll have to watch myself with you, won't I?” She gave Alexander a slight nod before continuing. “So I wasn't cleaning. I was snooping, but I didn't open the box that day.”
    “Why not?”
    “It wasn't my box.”
    Alexander dipped his head slightly and fixed a look of disbelief across his face.
    “Okay,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I waited until I knew that James would be gone for a while. He used to go on a small trip every December. I waited until then to open the box.”
    “What was in the box?”
    “His birth certificate, his Social Security card, and a stack of letters.”
    “Letters from William?”
    She leaned back in her seat, spreading her arms across the back of the couch. “If you knew about this already, wouldn't it have been easier to just come out and ask to see the letters?”
    “Can I see the letters?” Alexander said.
    “Sure, but what's this all about?”
    “Please…the letters?”
    Ianna stood and went down the hall, disappearing into a room at the opposite end of the apartment.
    Alexander took the opportunity to stretch his legs and look around. The apartment had been furnished with pieces that could only survive in a home with no children or pets. A Japanese sandalwood hutch held antique silver, delicate crystal, and pottery that looked older than the Bible itself. In the kitchen, fine Californian wines lined the racks of a wine cabinet. Through an open door, Alexander could see an office with mahogany wainscoting and shelves filled with books, and a desk with a computer monitor on it.
    In the front room, a carved-stone fireplace acted as a counterbalance to the windowed wall that overlooked the river. The over-mantle on the fireplace, a grid of stone panels, rose to the ceiling. A painting of a fountain hung above the fireplace. Alexander walked up to the painting and read the name Peterson in the bottom corner. A woman, dressed in a Victorian-era, long, white dress, descended steps behind the fountain.
    “That's an original Peterson,” Ianna said, walking into the room with a small, green box in her hands.
    “Never heard of him. Is he famous?”
    “She. And yes.” Ianna had fixed herself up a bit while she'd been retrieving the letters: her face softened by a touch of makeup, her hair brushed just enough to give it a shine. And Alexander thought he caught a whiff of perfume in the air that hadn't been there before.
    Alexander said, “If you don't mind my asking, what's a painting like that go for?”
    “James bought that before we got together. He told me that he paid seventy thousand dollars for it.”
    Alexander whistled his surprise and tried to imagine how this imposter could come up