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if he chose to.
    What else will Jethro want? She tried to anticipate. Something with Evan’s fingerprints or DNA maybe.
    Emily went to her bedroom and rifled through the top drawer of the highboy. Though she had packed away Evan’s things from the closet months ago, she still had not cleared out the top drawer of this chest. It was too intimate. He kept things like his brush, comb, and other personal items here. It was where he threw his keys, change from his pockets, and his wallet before coming to bed.
    Lifting the brush out of the drawer by the bristles, she slid it into a new plastic baggie and took it to the living room to set it next to the photo.
    As she set the brush down, the doorbell rang and Emily dashed to the door. She saw it was them through the small row of windows across the top and she opened it to welcome her guests.
    “Hello,” she greeted. “Please, come in.”
    Isabel stepped in first, followed by an older gentleman. His hair was an attractive silvery gray and he had eyes the color of black coffee. For a man in his early sixties, he had kept his body in good shape. Emily gave Isabel a quick hug and offered her hand to Jethro.
    “It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily said. “I appreciate your coming, more than you know. I’m sure Isabel has told you—”
    She noticed he was looking down at her feet.
    “Would you like us to remove our shoes?”
    Emily looked at him, then to Isabel, as her cheeks flushed red. She had forgotten to slip her flats on as planned.
    Isabel glared disapprovingly at her.
    “Oh, please, no. I just forgot to put mine on.” She turned to slip them on.
    “Don’t put them on, on my account. I’m just a country boy. I’d go around barefoot all the time if I could.” He chuckled and Isabel relaxed.
    “That’s kind of you to say,” Emily responded. “Let’s go in the living room.”
    Isabel led the way and motioned to the sofa.
    “Can I get you something to drink? I have Dr. Pepper, beer, and wine.”
    “I’ll take a beer,” Jethro replied.
    Isabel asked for a small glass of wine.
    Emily hurried to the kitchen and brought the drinks back, finding Jethro already studying the photo.
    “Either of them look familiar to you?” Emily asked, kneeling on the floor next to the table.
    “He does look vaguely familiar,” Jethro noted. “I can’t say exactly how I know him just yet. I’m flying back to DC next week. I can take the photo and ask a few long-timers if they know him.”
    “I’d appreciate it,” Emily said.
    “I wonder where this was taken.” He held the photo at arm’s length, scrutinizing. “The building in the background looks very old—like Europe somewhere.”
    “Funny, I thought that, too,” Emily agreed. “What about the woman?”
    “No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her. She’s a looker, I’d remember.” He smiled as he held the photo closer. “Yeah, she’s a beauty. Reminds me of my third wife.”
    “Your third wife? How many times have you been married?” Isabel asked with a chuckle.
    “Four—well, no, five if you count Lola. I married her in Vegas one night when I got real drunk. I was working undercover, getting close to a mob guy. He was having a big party and I had to keep up with him so I didn’t blow my cover. Lola was one of the girls at the party and we connected somehow. Woke up the next morning married, but we had it annulled a few weeks later.”
    Emily’s eyes widened as he spoke, her gaze shooting to the beer in his hand.
    He followed her gaze. “Don’t worry, I don’t have a drinking problem. That was in my early days, before I learned some tricks to only look like I was drinking.”
    Both Emily and Isabel sighed in relief.
    “If we could run Evan’s fingerprints or DNA, maybe that would help to identify him,” Jethro suggested.
    “I had the same idea, so I put his hairbrush in a baggie. I was careful not to touch it and smudge his prints.”
    “Good thinking.” Jethro tucked the baggie in his coat