The Echo Man

611.

'Did we get it?'

'I got the name,' Byrne said. 'And a partial address.'

'A partial address?'

Byrne fell silent.

'You weren't wearing your glasses.'

Byrne plowed forward. He checked the notes that he'd scribbled after leaving the store. 'The paper was purchased by a company called Marcato LLC. Contact name is JP Novak. The address is in Philly. Something something something something Ashingdale Road. Or Arlington. I think the number was 8180 or 5150. Maybe 6160.'

Jessica shook her head. 'You know, those glasses do serve a purpose.'

'I don't see you wearing yours all the time.'

'Mind your own business, Mr. Strong. Now, drive the car and let me start sleuthing.'

On the way back to Philadelphia Jessica called in the name. There was no phone listing for a JP Novak, nor anyone with that name in PCIC with a criminal record. They found more than three dozen listings for Novaks with J as an initial: John, Joseph, Jerry, Jerszy, Jacob, Joshua.

She also looked up Marcato and did not find any company with that name, LLC or otherwise. She did find a definition of the word and found that it was Italian for marked, and when it was applied to music it meant performing the note with an 'attack' and a sustain of two-thirds of the original written length, followed by an audible counted rest.

According to one source the marcato sound was 'a rhythmic thrust followed by a decay of the sound.'

Who would name their company this? Jessica wondered.

When they returned to the Roundhouse they searched every database for a JP Novak, as well as for Philadelphia streets named Ashingdon or dozens of possible permutations. They asked everyone on the floor if they knew of any Philly streets or courts or lanes by that name or similar names. There were a few close matches but nothing exact.

After twenty minutes of strikeouts Jessica stood, began to peruse the large paper map on the wall. You could only look at a computer screen for so long before going six-eyed with fatigue. Somehow she put her finger on two possibilities.

'Look at this,' she said. 'There's a street in West Philly called Abingdon.'

Byrne shot to his feet. 'That's it.' 'There's also one called Ashingdale.' 'Shit.'

Josh Bontrager grabbed his coat. 'I'll take Ashingdale.' Jessica and Byrne headed to the door. 'Kevin?'

'What?'

'Bring your glasses.'