Play dead

FIFTEEN

Joseph Swann watched the evening news. They had found a body in a shallow grave in Fairmount Park. A helicopter hovered.

Although it had been more than two months ago, Swann recalled the night he buried her as if it were yesterday. He recalled the cerulean sky that evening, the way the moon searched for him. Now, as then, he was a cipher, a man beyond even the reach of the heavens.

He had stood on the west side of Belmont Plateau that night, deep in the bushes and trees, lost in the shadows. He patted the dirt, dumped the bagful of leaves and debris on top of the bare earth. The scene looked undisturbed. The perfect illusion.

He recalled how he took off the gloves, slipped them into a plastic trash bag, how he later burned everything, including the thick plastic sheets that lined the trunk of the car, along with his clothing. It had been a shame to part with his bespoke suit, but it was a small price to pay. He had not been diligent about his visitors all this time to make a simple mistake. In fact, only one had ever gotten away. Sweet Cassandra.

He thought about how he had discovered the woman on the Faer- wood grounds that night. She had looked strong, but she also looked manic. She had fired her weapon at him while he was standing in the gazebo, the pergola long ago fitted with the counterweight elevator.

As the police engaged their new mystery, Joseph Swann sipped his tea. He knew it was time to bear down.

The Seven Wonders, he thought.

The game is on.

Minutes later, as he climbed the stairs, he reached into his shirt pocket. He had kept a memento of the dead woman, a small souvenir of their brief time together. A business card. Such a personal thing, he thought, yet something so aloof, something one gives away like a handshake, or a compliment:

DETECTIVE GENEVIEVE GALVEZ

SPECIAL INVESTIGATIONS UNIT OFFICE OF THE PHILADELPHIA DISTRICT ATTORNEY