CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

 

 

JEAN CONTINUED TO work on her salad as Susan filled in some details about the target. It seemed Kelsall had loved the finer things in life, had no real family to speak of, and at least before his death had never been married.

In fact, other than a degree from the University of Wisconsin Madison, and his friendship with another student, Carson White, Kelsall seemed to have a very unremarkable life until he and White decided to start their own religion.

“I got pictures and backgrounds on both of them,” Susan said. “And every bit of data I have dug up on them and their church I’ll be glad to show you, including the film taken of Kelsall making his jump from the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Long distance images I’ll bet,” Mary Jo said.

Susan shook her head, which stopped Jean in mid-bite.

“Close-up from three different angles on the bridge from three different stationary cameras of him going off the side,” Jean said. “Then two long-shots of his fall and hitting the water, one from each bank.”

“Got any idea how they faked that?” Mary Jo asked.

Susan nodded. “Had Kelsall stand on the edge of the bridge just over a net strung from the side of the bridge. He jumped into the net. Then they cleared the net and filmed a dummy going over from a distance, weighted so it looked like a human body falling. It would be heavy enough to sink and quickly dissolve in the water.”

“Real enough that no one would question it,” Jean said. She was amazed at the skill that had taken to plan.

“What they are not questioning,” Mary Jo said, “is the twenty-five years. If he had come back in six months, the questions would be everywhere. The brilliance of this con is the twenty-five years.”

“Exactly,” Susan said.

Jean nodded to that. Then asked, “So who hired you?”

“A parent of one of the kids trapped in the deeper cult of this fake church,” Susan said. “If we can expose this as a fake, my client thinks his kid will be able to walk away.”

“More than likely right on that score,” Jean said, nodding.

“Even after six years?” Mary Jo asked.

Susan nodded. “My client is afraid that if this guy actually does come back and make it look like he’s coming back from the dead, my client’s kid will kill herself to try to gain the same immortality.”

“So where have you looked for Kelsall?” Jean asked.

“Everywhere,” Susan said, the tiredness and hopelessness clear in her voice. “I figured that following the money would be the way to track Kelsall, since he liked to live high, but no money leaves the church. It all just pours in.”

“And where does White live?” Mary Jo asked.

“In the church compound,” Susan said. “He lives the life of a king, of that there is no doubt, but I can’t find any way that money is being filtered to anyone outside the church. And I’ve done some deep tracking.”

“You mind if we double-check you on that?” Mary Jo asked.

“Please,” Susan said.

They all finished their lunch with a few more basic questions, then Susan left for her apartment to get what she had dug up in six years of searching while Mary Jo and Jean strolled leisurely back toward their condo.

Jean loved walking with Mary Jo like this. Their strides matched and neither of them minded walking in silence.

This entire thing sure felt odd to Jean. Something was very wrong that Susan, clearly a smart and well-trained guild assassin, couldn’t find Kelsall. So finally, about a block from their condo, Jean broke the silence.

“You think Kelsall is alive? Or is this Carson White and his people just milking what they can for as long as they can?”

Mary Jo sort of shrugged. “I’m betting he’s still alive and hiding. We just have to figure out where and then figure out how to get him into the open and kill him.”

“He’s slipped somewhere, right. That is what you are saying?”

Jean smiled at the woman she loved.

Mary Jo smiled back. “Twenty-four years in hiding. He’s slipped. We just have to figure out where.”

Jean took Mary Jo’s hand. “Kind of fun to be back on the chase, isn’t it?”

“Tremendous fun,” Mary Jo said. “And challenging at the same time.”

“The best of both worlds,” Jean said.

Mary Jo squeezed her hand in agreement.