Chapter 25

I thought about calling Duncan right away but decided to wait until we got back to my apartment. I hoped we could get Cora to arrange another videoconference. When we arrived back at the bar, Mal parked, got out, and headed for the trunk. He was at my car door a moment later, holding an empty brown shopping bag.

“Slip the box in here,” he said. “That way it won’t attract any undue attention.”

I did as he said, and he carried the bag as we walked the half block to the bar. As soon as we were inside, we headed straight to my apartment. I didn’t bother to stop and chat with the staff or remove my coat. Once we were upstairs, with the door safely locked behind us, Mal took the metal box out of the bag and set it on my dining-room table.

I shucked off my coat and took a moment to catch my breath, staring at the box, wondering what sort of message the letter writer had for me this time.

“Coffee?” Mal asked.

I nodded, and he headed into my kitchen. I took out my cell phone and called Cora.

“Hey. What’s up?” she answered.

“Mal and I are upstairs, in my apartment. Are you still here at the bar?”

“Where else would I be?”

“Can you come up here with your laptop? We struck gold at the cemetery.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I disconnected the call and had Mal go downstairs to unlock the apartment door to let her in. It didn’t take long. Despite having to excuse herself from the Capone Club group, negotiate the stairs, and then cross the entire length of the bar, Cora made it to my apartment in under three minutes. She practically ran up the stairs.

“I’m so glad the cemetery thing panned out,” she said when she reached the top, Mal right behind her. “Was it awful?”

“To be honest, it’s a nice place, for a cemetery. I think I’d like to go back in the summertime, when all the trees are in bloom. It was quite peaceful and serene. I imagine it’s even more so when everything is growing and green.”

Cora blinked several times very fast and stared at me like she thought I was crazy. Then she shrugged it off, set her laptop on the dining-room table, and said, “What did you find?”

I pointed at the metal box. “We opened it and saw an envelope inside but didn’t take it out or open it, in case it contains any evidence. I was wondering if you could try to get Duncan on your computer using that video chat thing so he can watch us open it.”

“Can do,” she said. “Let me try to raise him.”

She opened the laptop and started typing. While she did that, I went into the kitchen to grab some Baggies to use for evidence and then went into my father’s office to get a sheet of plain white paper. I knew the drill by now.

“Duncan isn’t responding,” Cora said. “Can you call him and see if he can get to his computer?”

I nodded, took out my cell phone, and dialed his number. He answered on the third ring.

“Mack, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “We found something at the cemetery. Mal and Cora are here with me. Cora was trying to videoconference with you so we can open it.”

“I’m not at the station,” he said. “At the moment I’m in my car. Can you hold off for a bit? If you can give me a couple of hours, I can be there at the bar and open it with you.”

I didn’t want to wait, but I also didn’t want to screw up any evidence that might be in or on the box. Given the deadlines imposed on me in the previous letters, I didn’t think a couple of hours would make much difference. And the thought of getting to see Duncan would make the waiting a little easier.

“Okay. How do you want to sneak in this time?”

“Meet me at the back alley door at five.”

“You got it. See you then.”

I disconnected the call and filled Cora and Mal in on the plan. Cora eyed the box on the table the way a starving child might eye a sandwich.

“We have to wait?” she moaned.

I nodded, sympathetic to her angst. To distract her, I filled her in on the details of the person whose grave had been closest to the tree that had held the metal box. “It looks like you might be onto something with this university connection,” I told her, and she seemed both pleased and placated for the moment. “We can kill some time by looking into this Margaret Dunford Green’s background.”

“And we can work on the Middleton case,” she said. “Sandra Middleton dropped by and said she talked with Christine, Ben’s lawyer. In fact, she was still upstairs in the Capone Club room when I came up here. She said Christine can put us in touch with the guy who supposedly sold Ben the gun used to kill Tiffany. The group thought it might be helpful if you had a chat with him, to see if he’s telling the truth about the incident.”

“That’s a great idea,” I said, nodding and thinking. “Any idea when she wants to do this?”

“I think she needs to know when you can do it, and then she’ll set it up. Sandra also said that her parents are willing to talk to you if you want.”

I thought about it and shook my head. “Maybe later. I’m not sure what good it will do at this point. I’d rather use my time talking to people who are more directly involved.”

For the next half hour, we sat at the table while Cora dug up what she could find on Margaret Dunford Green. She found the obituary that Emma had consulted, and verified that Ms. Green’s parents and brother had died in a plane crash. Cora dug up a news article on the crash, and it helped answer the question of why the great-aunt had opted to bury Margaret in Milwaukee. The plane carrying the rest of the Green family had burst into flames after hitting the side of a mountain. The occupants had to be identified through DNA extracted from bits of bone and teeth. There was nothing left of them to bury. It saddened me to think that this young woman, with her entire life ahead of her and a devastating past behind her, had come to such an untimely—and lonely—end. Then I realized that her life circumstances hadn’t been that much different from mine. It was a sobering thought.

Cora found some of Margaret Green’s social media entries, and I was happy to hear that hundreds of friends and classmates had posted on an Internet memorial page erected in her memory. As was the case with me, Margaret Green’s family consisted of the people who were closest to her and a regular part of her life. She hadn’t been alone, and she wouldn’t be forgotten.

I hoped I would be so lucky.