"I have a friend who's an attorney," Dean said, on the spur of the moment. "I don't know if she can help very much but she may be able to steer you in the right direction." He scribbled Ethel Rosewater's name and address on a scrap of paper. She thanked him and placed it in her purse.

"Randy and I tried to remember the day you said Jeff was absent from work," she said. "Neither of us could recall anything unusual. It was a Tuesday so I was at class and Randy at baseball practice-otherwise we remembered nothing. I'm sure it's a mix up on the part of World Wide."

Dean agreed she was probably right and didn't press the sub­ject. He then told her the Parkside Police Department would close the investigation from this end unless something new came to light.

Cynthia Byrne held out her hand and said, with what Dean hoped was at least a hint of reluctance, "I guess I won't be seeing you again. I really appreciate everything you've done. And tonight was perfect-it was just what I needed. Mr. O'Connor is a doll."

"Mr. O'Connor is a scoundrel," Dean replied. "I wouldn't leave you alone with him for a minute."

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She laughed. "I'm sure he's broken a thousand hearts!"

He walked her to the door, carrying her husband's suitcase. "If there is anything missing, let me know."

"I will," she smiled, but the sadness was returning. He went back to his car and started the engine, glancing back, but she had already closed the door.




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