Myron shook his head.

“Then let’s move on to Entity two: Adam Culver’s involvement. Sometime after Kathy disappears, her father finds the lewd photographs of his little princess in the attic. We know that they were hidden there by Carol Culver. But Adam, I am sure, did not realize that. He would have naturally assumed that Kathy had hidden them there. He would also have naturally assumed that the pictures were connected to his daughter’s disappearance.”

“Logical,” Myron agreed.

“Yes, quite.” Win twirled his cognac, studying the color. “Adam Culver then enlists the aid of Paul Duncan in his investigation. They track down the photographs’ place of origin with the help of Fred Nickler. They also find out about Gary Grady. They continue their investigation, but nothing new develops. Paul wants to give up. Adam is desperate—so desperate that he tries to draw out the assailant in a most unorthodox manner.”

Win paused, considering. “Here,” he said, “is where it gets very interesting. We know Adam Culver had the photographs. We know he arranged to have them put in a pornographic magazine. I find it significant that the picture was placed only in Nips magazine.”

Myron leaned forward. They were on the same wavelength. “The magazine with the smallest—almost nonexistent—circulation.”

“That fact disturbed you from the beginning,” Win said.

Myron nodded. “Someone didn’t want that magazine seen by a lot of people.”

“Like her father.”

“Right.”

“And,” Win continued, “we know that Adam Culver liked to frequent the casinos of Atlantic City. He might have met your friend Blackjack during one of his visits or at least heard his name. He could have hired someone else to forge his daughter’s handwriting. He probably had a tape with her voice from an old answering machine. Ergo, Adam Culver set the whole thing up. He sent out the magazine to everyone who might have been involved in Kathy’s disappearance. Her fiancé, for one. People in the picture, like Junior Horton.”

“Why did he send one to his wife?” Myron asked.

“I don’t know.”

“And Dean Gordon?”

“Perhaps the dean was in one of those attic photographs. Or perhaps Adam found out about Kathy’s visit to the dean’s house that night. Most likely Adam was merely considering every possibility. But it’s not really that relevant to the case. What is relevant, however, is the question of why Adam did not once again enlist the help of Paul Duncan.”

“Because,” Myron said, “Adam found out that Paul was sleeping with his wife.”

Win nodded. “Paul was no longer a friend or trustworthy. Adam was now on his own. He sent the package to Sir Blackjack, making sure it would never be traced back to him. Then Adam set up his second little sting operation, the one on his wife and Paul. He walked in on them, ran out, and was killed.”

“So who murdered him?” Myron said.

Win put down the snifter on a harpsichord from the seventeenth century. He steepled his fingers, bouncing them gently off one another. “There are two strong possibilities,” he said. “First, Paul Duncan. We cannot just dismiss him. He had motive and opportunity. Second, Adam wanted to stir up the killer, that much is clear. But perhaps the magazine stirred up more trouble than he’d anticipated.”

“Except for one thing,” Myron interjected. “The magazines hadn’t been sent out yet. Adam was dead two days before Blackjack mailed them.”

“So perhaps someone discovered what Adam was up to before they were mailed.”

“Otto Burke?”

Win shrugged.

“But Otto has no connection to Kathy Culver,” Myron said.

“None that we are aware of. Which leads us to Entity three: the unknowns. A major unknown, as I see it, is Nancy Serat. We can assume that she gave Adam Culver valuable information. But we do not know who killed her. Or what she meant when she told Christian it was time for sisters to reunite. And we especially do not know why Kathy Culver’s hair was found on her dead body.”

Win rechecked his hair. Perfect. He smiled, winked, did everything but kiss his own reflection. “We also have no explanation for Adam Culver’s cabin in the woods. He could have become desperate enough to grab suspects and do his own interrogations. Or he could have been seeking retribution for all in the wicked photographs. On someone like Gary Grady. Or Junior Horton. But for some reason my mind cannot fully accept either of these rationales.”

Myron nodded. It didn’t feel right to him either.

“And so now we’ve reached the final unknown. The most significant unknown of all: Miss Kathy Culver herself. Is she alive? Is she behind all this? Is she involved in any way at all?”

Win picked the snifter off the harpsichord. He took a sip of cognac, let it roll around his tongue, swallowed. “The end.”

They both sat in silence. Myron churned the facts through his head yet again. None of them changed. Win studied his face.

“This was all a mental exercise,” Win said. “A test drive, as it were.”

Myron said nothing.

“You know what happened. You knew before I said a word.”

Myron handed Win the telephone. “Cancel your date. We have a lot of work to do.”

Chapter 47

The memorial service.

Myron slipped in late and ducked behind a pillar. He was in desperate need of a shower, a shave, a nap. And he looked it.

He spotted Jessica in the front pew. She sat on one side of her mother, Edward on the other. All three were crying.

The priest delivered the standard death spiel like an actor who knew his lines too well. Nothing new or original was said. There was no coffin, no well-dressed corpse in peaceful repose. The priest seemed bothered by this, by the absence of his customary prop. He kept motioning down on cue, only to draw back when he realized that there was nothing in front of him.

Myron stayed out of sight. The church was crowded. Paul Duncan sat in the second row, directly behind Carol. Every once in a while Paul would put his hand on her shoulder, but he’d never leave it there long. Appearances. Christian was next to him, head lowered in prayer. Otto Burke and Larry Hanson were a few rows back. Good PR move. The press would undoubtedly be made aware of Otto Burke’s heartfelt concern for his players’ personal plights. Again, appearances.

Win was near the back. To his right sat Sally Li. Her face looked drawn, as if she could use a cigarette. Myron had spoken to her late last night. She had done the test. It had come out as he’d suspected.