Back at Harriett’s house, Nessa had spent the entire day on the sofa. As soon as Harriett and Jo drove off toward the Pointe, the voices had begun growing louder. They’d reached a crescendo around two and remained almost deafening for most of the afternoon. When her headache became bearable once more, Nessa knew her friends were on their way back. Soon the dead were just a dull din in the background.
The front door swung open and Harriett appeared. “Honey, I’m home!” she called. “Oh, there you are, darling. Tell me you didn’t spend the whole day on your back.”
“Where’s Jo?” Nessa asked.
“Chase drove her home so she could see Lucy before bedtime. She’ll come by in the morning.” Harriett’s eyes landed on something in the room and her lip curled with disgust. “What are those?”
Nessa followed Harriett’s gaze to a glass vase overflowing with perfect white lilies.
“Oh, those came about thirty minutes ago. From one of your admirers?” Nessa had been dying to peek at the card, but good manners had prevailed.
“No one who admires me sends me dead things.” Harriett approached the bouquet as though she were sidling up to a corpse and plucked a card out from between the stems. Her eyes remained on the card much longer than necessary.
“Well?” Nessa asked.
The card skimmed through the air and landed faceup in Nessa’s lap. So lovely to meet you, it read in tight, slanted script.
“The flowers are from Spencer Harding,” Harriett said.
“The art dealer? The jerk who’s married to Jo’s client?” Nessa didn’t get it. “Why would he send you flowers?”
“We met him at the party.”
“You must have made a real impression,” Nessa teased.
“Indeed.” Harriett smiled at a thought she didn’t choose to share. “The flowers are Mr. Harding’s clever way of telling me he knows where I live. I hope he pays me a visit soon. I’d love to give him a tour of my garden.” Harriett pinned the card to the wall behind her workbench and grabbed the vase. “Be right back. These need to go to the compost heap.” A few minutes later, she returned in a cloud of pot smoke, a blunt wedged between two fingers. Her left hand clutched a bottle of champagne.
“Are we celebrating?” Nessa asked.
“Every day is a celebration,” Harriett responded. “Grab a glass and get comfortable. I’ve got a story to tell you.”
Harriett kicked off her sandals and spread herself out on the couch with a forearm tucked under her head. She left enough room for Nessa at the far end, where the cloud of pot smoke was thinner. Nessa never partook, but she’d come to appreciate the pleasant buzz of a light contact high. By the time Harriett had finished the story of the day’s events, Nessa had set down her champagne and moved out of the smoke to a nearby chair. She needed a clear mind to process the tale.
“You said our whale watcher’s name is Leonard Shaw?” Nessa typed his name into Google and scrolled through the results. “Well, how about that? He’s all over the internet.” Nessa held her phone up for Harriett to see.
Harriett took a long drag on her blunt while she squinted at the screen. “Yep. That’s Lenny. Who’s the funny-looking guy he’s with?”
“The president of MIT.” Nessa scrolled down. “And here’s a picture of Leonard with the president of Harvard.”
Harriett exhaled smoke in Nessa’s direction. “Lenny sure has a lot of smart friends.”
Nessa waved the cloud away with her free hand and kept scrolling with the other. “Here’s a picture of him with the Clintons. And another with Donald Trump. I’m telling you, Harriett. Your friend Leonard might be the most popular man on earth.” She paused to scan a newspaper article. “And I think I just figured out why everyone loves him. According to the Times, Leonard has promised to give away ten billion dollars before he dies. The man’s a saint.”
“A saint would give away money anonymously,” Harriett responded. “People who announce their intentions in the Times are out to make friends. Tell the world you plan to give away ten billion dollars and you’ll have a very hard time finding enemies.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Nessa asked.
“No,” Harriett admitted. “It’s an interesting thing.”
“You wanna know what’s funny, though?” Nessa looked back down and scrolled through all the articles she’d found. “I can’t figure out what Leonard used to do for a living.”
“He didn’t do anything,” Harriett said. “He was in finance. He just moved money around. Speaking of which, you remember Antoine Marchand?”
Nessa began to type. “Antoine with an e?”
“Do you really not recognize the name?” Harriett asked. “He ran one of the biggest Ponzi schemes of the nineties. Madoff stole his thunder a decade later, but Marchand was the OG.”
“I was in nursing school in the nineties. I didn’t have time for the news.”
“Must have been a nursing school on Mars if you missed the Marchand story. He jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge. A crew filming a movie caught it all on camera. The video was one of the internet’s first viral sensations.”
“I remember a man jumping off the bridge, but why are we talking about him now?”
“Antoine Marchand is our new BFF Claude’s dad.”
“So her father committed suicide?” Nessa asked. “How sad.”
“He stole hundreds of millions of dollars,” Harriett said. “If I recall correctly, poor Claude had been kept in the dark, and she ended up broke after he died. I imagine that must have screwed with her head a bit. Now look up Spencer Harding, and you’ll get a sense of our cast of characters.”
Nessa spent a few minutes perusing the results. “There are plenty of articles about paintings he’s sold, but there’s not much online about Harding himself. Lot of stuff about his wife, though. She hasn’t been seen in public much since they married, and people aren’t happy about it. Do you think she’s really addicted to painkillers?”
“I think an addiction to painkillers is an excellent excuse for keeping your wife under house arrest.”
Nessa glanced up. “You know the girl in blue died of a fentanyl overdose,” she said. “That’s a painkiller.”
“That fact hasn’t escaped me,” Harriett said.
“So Spencer Harding keeps his wife under surveillance, has his bodyguard threaten anyone who gets close to her, and sends you flowers to show he knows where you live? Sounds like he might be our guy.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Harriett said. “Either way, he’s a threat to our kind, and he needs to be dealt with. I’m rooting for his wife to save me the trouble and kill him herself.”
Nessa hadn’t been listening. “Is he this good-looking in real life?” She handed her phone to Harriett.
The photo was an old one, and the man on the screen had black hair trimmed with gray. His eyes, which stared straight out at the camera, were unusually light. He wore a beautifully cut navy suit and a hostile expression. He seemed to resent having his photo taken.
“Yes, he’s handsome.” Harriett took another drag off her blunt. “But your friend the cop is hotter. It’s more fun screwing people with souls. Speaking of Franklin, we should tell him to come over so we can give him the 411.”
Nessa reached for her phone, and Harriett sat up to hand it back. “I sent Franklin a text thirty minutes ago,” Nessa said, scrolling through her messages. “I don’t know why he hasn’t gotten back to me.”
“Relax.” Harriett spread her long body out on the sofa again. “He will.”
Nessa sensed what would come next and suddenly wished Jo hadn’t gone home. When they were alone, Harriett could make Nessa spill beans she’d rather keep in their can.
Harriett took another puff off her joint. “You like him. Admit it. When are you planning to get some?”
“What?” Nessa felt her face burning. “Never!”
“Why not?” Harriett seemed to enjoy torturing her. “You kissed him, didn’t you?”
Just the thought of Franklin’s lips touching hers gave Nessa a jolt. “Can we just talk about Spencer Harding and Ponzi schemes?”
“I’ve told you everything that I know for the time being. So why don’t we take this opportunity to have a chat about your sex life? I don’t think you’re embarrassed. We’ve both lived too long for that.”
Nessa thought it over. “You’re right. I’m not embarrassed,” she concluded. “I guess I’d say I’m confused. I always thought women disappeared when they reached our age.”
“Disappeared?” Harriett coughed the word out and took another toke.
“You know, to men,” Nessa said. “I spent my whole nursing career getting my ass grabbed by dirty old bastards in hospital gowns. There were quite a few days when I wished I could disappear. It’s a relief not having to deal with that anymore.”
Harriett tilted her head back and released a smoke ring like the Caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland. “If you want to be invisible now, you can be,” she said. “But why would you want to hide from handsome Franklin Rees?”
Nessa shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s interested in, anyway. I’m nowhere near as attractive as I used to be.”
Harriett’s head rolled back down and her gaze fell on Nessa. “By attractive, you mean young and thin?”
“What else would I mean?”
“When someone calls you attractive, it means you draw people to you,” Harriett said. “You think a tiny waist and wrinkle-free skin are the only things that can do that?”
“Yes, I know. I have a lovely personality.”
“I’m not joking. Do you know how beautiful it is to be alive? Do you have any idea how few people really are? You’ve got a spark. And even now, after everything you’ve been through, it’s as strong as ever. That’s what keeps Franklin fluttering around you like a lovesick moth.”
“You’re high, Harriett.”
“True,” she said. “I am indeed very stoned. But I was also in advertising for twenty-five years. Ad people like me are the ones who convinced women that being attractive was all about rosy cheeks and red lips. You know why? Because we could sell lipstick and bronzer and Botox and juice plans. There was no way to make money off the kind of allure that I’m talking about. So we sold a version of attractiveness you could buy instead. And over time, people forgot there was any other type. But some of us don’t need all the crap at Sephora to draw others to us. And like it or not, you are one of those people, my friend.”
“So you think that’s what Franklin sees in me? My spark?”
“You’re fucking hot, Nessa. Just like Jo. Just like me. And unlike Jo and me, you have that gorgeous big ass.”
“Thank you,” Nessa giggled.
“How long has it been?” Harriett asked.
Nessa didn’t want to say. After Jonathan died, she’d packed that part of herself away. Throughout her marriage, she’d never fantasized about anyone else. The truth was, she’d never even looked at another man in that way. Nessa felt Harriett’s eyes on her, and she worried how it would sound if she said that out loud. She didn’t expect Harriett to believe her. But for the fifteen years they were together, Nessa had been completely faithful to Jonathan in body, mind, and soul. Since his death, nothing had changed. Once she passed forty-five, she assumed nothing ever would.
“It’s time,” Harriett told her.
At that moment, Nessa’s phone rang. She looked down and saw Franklin’s name on the caller ID. “Did you do that?” she marveled.
“You ladies have drastically overestimated my powers.” Harriett rolled her eyes. “You even bought that whale bullshit a few weeks ago.”
“You didn’t talk to the whale?” Nessa looked crestfallen.
“Sure I did. But before that, I read the Mattauk newspaper and saw that whales had been spotted just off the Pointe.”
“Damn you,” Nessa said as she prepared to answer the call. “I was really impressed.”
“Oh, I have plenty of skills that would impress the hell out of you,” Harriett assured her. “Sending telepathic messages to detectives just isn’t one of them. Now answer the phone.”
“Franklin.” Nessa’s heart picked up speed. She turned her head away from Harriett so the other woman couldn’t see the grin on her face.
“I called as soon as I could.” Franklin sounded exhausted. “There’s been some movement in the case. A woman who says she’s our Jane Doe’s mother has come forward.”
Nessa leaped out of her chair. “Are you serious?”
“She saw the portrait we posted online and believes it may be her daughter, who disappeared a few weeks ago. I’m sending a car to pick up the woman in the city tomorrow so she can identify the body. If it turns out to be her daughter, she says she’d like to meet with the person who found her.”
“I’ll be ready,” Nessa said breathlessly. “Doesn’t matter what time.”
“I’m just warning you, Nessa, even if this is the lady we’re looking for, she might not say what you’ve been hoping to hear.”
“Doesn’t matter. If she’s the mother, bring her to my house.”
“Are you sure, Nessa?” Franklin pressed her. “This sort of thing is the worst part of my job. I don’t know why you’d want to share it.”
“I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning.” Nessa hung up the phone and looked down at Harriett, who was launching another perfect smoke ring into the air. “Franklin says they may have found the girl’s mother.”
Harriett lifted an eyebrow. “Two big leads in one day,” she said. “What are the odds?”
At eleven the next morning, the doorbell rang. On Nessa’s front porch, a skeletal woman stood by Franklin’s side. Nessa had been watching them since they pulled up in the drive. The woman shared the dead girl’s prominent cheekbones and their noses bore a resemblance to each other. But the eyes were different. The girl’s eyes had been spared whatever horrors the older woman’s had seen.
Now that she was close, Nessa could tell the woman had been beautiful once. It was evident not only in her face, but in the way she held herself—hunched and self-conscious, as though she’d been robbed of her only treasure.
“Thank you for finding my baby.” The woman on her doorstep threw her arms around Nessa and burst into tears. Nessa held her as she cried, wondering how it was possible that a human body could function with so little flesh. They stood there on the threshold, the woman clinging to Nessa like a life preserver, until Franklin cleared his throat behind them.
“Come inside,” Nessa told the woman. “I just made coffee. Would you like some?”
“Yes, thank you.” She pulled a Kleenex out of a packet that Franklin offered and wiped away the mascara under her eyes.
“Detective Rees, go make yourself comfortable in the living room and we’ll bring you a cup,” Nessa told him once they were all three inside. She gently took her guest’s arm and guided her toward the kitchen. “I’m Nessa James, in case the detective didn’t tell you.”
“Laverne Green.”
“You hungry, Ms. Green?” Nessa asked. “I made some butter rolls this morning, and if you don’t have some, I’m gonna end up eating the whole batch—and those calories would look a lot better on you than on me.”
“I’d love some,” the woman said hungrily.
In the kitchen, Nessa gathered dishes and silverware. The woman watched her. She didn’t seem to know what to do with herself.
“The detective says you drew the picture that was online.”
“Yes,” Nessa said. “I tried my best. I hope it did her justice.”
The woman retrieved an envelope from her pocketbook and pulled out a Polaroid, leaving several more stacked inside. “Her name was Venus,” she said. “After the goddess—not the tennis star.”
The girl’s hair was styled differently, but it was unmistakably her. She was wearing a ruffled red dress in a style that seemed better suited to another decade.
“You chose the right name for her. She was a beauty. May I see the other pictures?” Nessa asked.
“Of course.” The woman passed her the whole envelope.
The photos showed the girl posing in front of the same mirror in different outfits. Something in one of them caught Nessa’s eye. It was the chain the girl had been wearing when she died. The pendant at the bottom wasn’t a cross as Nessa had imagined. It was a coiled snake crafted from gold.
“That’s a beautiful crucifix she’s wearing,” Nessa said. If the woman was the girl’s real mother, she would know the pendant wasn’t a cross.
“Thank you.” Laverne wiped away a tear. “It was a gift from her grandfather.”
Nessa slipped the picture into the center of the pile and handed the photos back to the woman.
“Venus seemed to love the camera,” Nessa said. “And it sure loved her back.”
“She wanted to be a model,” the woman said. “Like her mama was back in the day. I know I don’t look like much now, but I was on the cover of magazines when I was that age.”
Nessa looked up to find Laverne staring at her. “I believe it,” she said.
“Then Venus’s daddy left me when she was a baby. Said I’d gotten fat. Everything went to hell from there. And now this—”
Back in her nursing days, Nessa had seen far too many parents lose children. Some wailed in anguish, while death struck others silent. Nessa knew grief came in countless varieties. But in her experience, this wasn’t one of them. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Laverne’s gaze only intensified. Nessa returned to her work, but she could still feel it.
“I just wish I could have taken better care of her. When she ran away three months ago, it wasn’t exactly a surprise. Venus had been making her own money and I told her she needed to start paying rent, but she wanted to spend it on drugs. After that, she just picked up and left.”
“How was she making her own money?” Nessa asked.
Laverne stared down at the butter rolls on the counter. “Men,” she said, leaving it at that. “I told her how dangerous it was. I told her she’d end up dead. But you know girls. I was the same way.”
It was time. Nessa had loaded a tray with the coffee cups and dishes. “Would you mind carrying that plate of butter rolls for me?” she asked.
They took everything to the living room, where Franklin was waiting in a chair.
“Have a seat on the sofa,” Nessa told her guest. She chose the chair next to Franklin’s for herself.
Nessa watched as the woman sat down beside the girl in blue, whose name, Nessa was almost positive, was not Venus Green. The ghost’s head slowly swiveled to get a look at the woman. Then it turned back to face Nessa. Nothing had changed.
An hour later, when her guests had gone, Nessa used a pencil to pick up the coffee cup that Laverne Green had used. She carefully placed it inside a plastic bag.
“That wasn’t her mother,” Nessa told Franklin when he phoned later that evening.
“She brought a birth certificate and photos and a folder full of documents,” Franklin said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Nessa insisted. “I kept the woman’s coffee cup. You need to test her DNA against the girl’s.”
“Nessa.” Franklin sounded like he was going to talk sense to her. “There is no way I can justify that. Laverne Green had all the right paperwork. What makes you think she’s not the girl’s mother?”
“The whole time that woman was in my living room, she was sitting right next to the girl she claimed was her daughter. The girl didn’t recognize her.”
“Hold on a second,” Franklin said. “Are you telling me that girl’s ghost is inside your house?”
“Do I sound like I’m messing with you?”
Franklin took a moment to absorb the news. “Nessa, there is no way I can justify doing a DNA test. I believe what you’re saying, but as far as the department is concerned, the girl is Venus Green.”
“Fine,” Nessa huffed. “I’ll do my own test. She left her DNA all over my cup.”
“You’ll need the girl’s DNA, too,” Franklin said. “How are you going to get that?”
“I’ll ask for a few strands of her hair when I have her buried.”
“When you have her buried?” Franklin sounded confused.
“Now that the girl’s body has been identified, it will be released from the morgue. Is Laverne Green planning to take it?”
Franklin pulled in a deep breath. “She said she doesn’t have the money for a funeral. The county will have to bury the body.”
“Mmmhmmm.” Nessa’s hunch had been confirmed. “I knew there was no way in hell that woman was going to pay for a funeral for a girl she doesn’t know. Tell the county they can save the taxpayer dollars. I will take care of that baby.”