Cynthia Byrne thanked Dean. She paused before adding softly, "Will you be going there? To the motel?"
"Yes," he answered, as he sipped the hot coffee, burning his lip. She didn't respond. "One other thing," he added. "Just a detail. Do you remember if your husband was sick on March fourth?" He had to repeat the question.
"No," she answered quickly. "I mean, I don't know anything about March fourth but I know Jeff hasn't been sick for years and years. Why?"
"I remembered your mentioning the perfect attendance-how your son and husband had a little bet going but his personnel record shows he took a day off, on the fourth of March. I was just wondering...."
"No. That's a mistake. I'm sure of it."
"Couldn't he have gone to the doctor or the dentist or someplace? Maybe had the car inspected?"
"I usually run all the errands. We use local doctors and dentists and Jeff tries to schedule evening appointments because it's difficult with his working in Philadelphia. His office must have mixed his file up with someone else."
"You're probably right," Dean said. "But just to make sure, would you check the date to see if anything out of the ordinary happened that day?"
"Yes," she said hesitantly. "If you think it's important."
"No," he answered, lightly. "It's not really important. I'm just trying to be thorough."
She thanked him again and wished him a safe return trip before hanging up.
"Problems?" asked Hunter.
"No," Dean answered. "Just the first little inconsistency."
"Okay," said Hunter as he rose. "Let's get out of this here kennel and let the hound dogs scrap for themselves."
Hunter and Dean exchanged information during the short drive to the Ocean Shore Motel. Dean detailed what he'd learned from speaking with Cynthia Byrne and meeting with Byrne's boss in Philadelphia and gave the detective a written copy of his interviews. When Dean described Jeffrey Byrne's quiet life style, Hunter nodded in agreement.
"That's pretty much the picture the local office gave me. Byrne would come into town, do his business, but that's all. He was friendly enough, but no threat to anyone and no corporate climber. When some of the Philadelphia big-wigs flew down, everyone would sweat and jump. When Byrne came, no one got out of his chair."
Hunter had interviewed the fisherman who thought he saw a body floating in the bay. However, an empty pint of Jack Daniel's on the galley table made the observation somewhat less credible. Further investigation revealed nothing. There was no taxi report of a pick-up in the area. Bus station and airport personnel had been questioned, but no one remembered anything of note. Byrne's description was far too common to stand out but no one recalled a man hurriedly leaving the city in the middle of the night, Tuesday-Wednesday.