Rough Weather

25

Epstein came into my office on the day before Halloween and sat down, put his feet on the edge of my desk, and tilted his chair back.

“Hilda Gretsky was in fact born in Dayton,” he said. “She attended Stebbins High School but didn’t graduate, went to beautician school and didn’t finish, worked at a bookstore called Books amp; Co. for a couple years, and headed for New York, looking, I assume, for Mr. Right.”

“That’s where he usually is,” I said.

“I’ll mention it to my daughters,” Epstein said.

“You have daughters?”

“Three.”

“Wife?” I said.

“Not currently,” Epstein said.

“Anything else interesting about Heidi?” I said.

“People at the bookstore say she wasn’t much of a bookseller. Said she spent most of her time reading the books,” Epstein said.

“That’s it?” I said.

“Yep. No record. Nobody much remembers her.”

“Parents?”

“Deceased,” Epstein said.

“Siblings?”

“None.”

“Boyfriends?” I said.

“None that we could find,” Epstein said. “We have located her current husband.”

“From whom she’s estranged.”

“Yeah.”

“Healy gave me an address in Padanarum, on the south coast,” I said.

“That’s one,” Epstein said. “He’s got houses in London and Tuscany, too.”

“What’s he do?”

“Seems to be some sort of consultant for the Information Agency.”

“That doesn’t support three houses.”

“Probably not,” Epstein said.

“So,” I said. “He’s got money, too.”

“Apparently.”

“What a coincidence,” I said. “All her husbands have been rich.”

“Lucky her,” Epstein said.

“Where’s Bradshaw now?” I said.

“Padanarum, last we checked,” Epstein said.

“How did he make his money?”

“The old-fashioned way,” Epstein said. “His father earned it.”

“What’s he do with the Information Agency?” I said.

“Information adviser.”

“Propaganda?” I said.

“We don’t do propaganda,” Epstein said. “Our enemies disseminate propaganda. We provide information.”

“It’s good to be us,” I said.

“Used to be,” Epstein said.

“Is that subversive?” I said.

Epstein shook his head and didn’t answer.

“Is it a civil service job?”

“Nope,” Epstein said. “I don’t think so. I think it’s a campaign contribution at the right time to the right guy’s job.”

“He work regularly?”

“He consults from time to time,” Epstein said.

“How long they been separated?” I said.

“Year and a half,” Epstein said.

He balanced easily on the hind legs of the chair. He seemed confident that he wouldn’t go over backward.

“Know anything about the current escort?” I said. “Guy named Clark.”

“I know you knocked him on his ass,” Epstein said.

“Piece of cake,” I said. “What’s his last name?”

“Morrissey,” Epstein said. “Clark Morrissey. Competed for a while as a bodybuilder. Male stripper. Bouncer at some upscale clubs. Probably where she met him.”

“Can’t fight a lick,” I said.

“Most folks can’t,” Epstein said. “But people like Heidi Bradshaw don’t know that.”

“And he looks good,” I said.

“That’s what I been getting by on,” Epstein said.