‘‘Not a lot that we know. A lot we have some good guesses about. One of the problems is that they are identical triplets. Some of the photographs we’re finding may not be Clymene, but one of her sisters. Hell, for all I know they may all be in this together—three little black widows all raking in the money.’’
‘‘So, what do you think you know?’’ said Frank.
‘‘For the sake of argument, I’ve decided Clymene must be about thirty-five years old, so that’s my base.’’
Diane sat up and took a sip of wine. She had made one of her famous three-cheese-and-meat lasagnas for dinner and Frank had opened a bottle of wine. She took another sip before she spoke again.
‘‘In 1987, Clymene was with a man named Simon Greene, aka Jurgen Heinrich, possibly somewhere in Europe. He was using her in porno movies. Kade couldn’t find any earlier photographs of her, but that doesn’t really mean anything.’’
‘‘So, 1987 is the first date she appeared on your radar. She would have been how old then?’’ said Frank.
‘‘Fifteen. We suspect her father sold her around that time, possibly much earlier. He probably saw her as just a spare. After all, he had two more just like her,’’ said Diane.
‘‘You feel sorry for her?’’ asked Frank.
‘‘I feel sorry for the terrible things done to her, the chance for a normal life taken from her,’’ she said. ‘‘I feel sorry for that little fifteen-year-old. I don’t feel sorry for the murderer she’s become.’’
‘‘Why don’t you go over your timeline with me?’’ he said, rubbing her shoulders.
‘‘In 1991 Greene was murdered, burned alive. We think by Clymene, but we have no proof,’’ said Diane. ‘‘She would have been nineteen at the time—old enough to defend herself and to make it on her own.’’
‘‘It could be argued she was just defending herself. Found the opportunity to escape from her captor,’’ said Frank. ‘‘If it were Star, I would expect her to fight . . .’’
‘‘I know,’’ said Diane. ‘‘And I agree, if the killing had stopped there.’’
‘‘That was 1991. What next?’’
‘‘The next time we pick her up is six years later in 1997 and her name is Kathy Delancy Bacon and she is married to Grant Bacon of Richmond, Virginia. He died in a boating accident.’’
‘‘Wealthy husband number one,’’ said Frank.
‘‘Four years later, in 2001, she is Estelle Redding and married to Glenn Redding of Seattle, Washington. He dies of a rampant staph infection and leaves her two hundred million dollars. In 2004 she is Clymene Smith Carthwright and married to Robert Carthwright of the Atlanta Carthwrights. He dies when a car he was working on falls off its jack and crushes him to death. Then in 2006 she is Clymene O’Riley, married to Archer O’Riley here in Rosewood, and he dies of tetanus. That’s her history as we know it,’’ said Diane.
‘‘The events in your timeline are located all across the country and in Europe. You said the epigenetic profile prepared by Jin indicates that Clymene was separated from her sisters and moved around for a number of years, but that the other sisters stayed in closer proximity to each other. That would lend support to the conclusion that the woman in your timeline of events is in fact Clymene and not her sisters,’’ said Frank.
‘‘I feel fairly confident the timeline belongs to Clymene, but I like to keep my mind open for other possibilities. Clymene does have an unusual capacity to surprise.’’
‘‘More wine?’’ asked Frank.
Diane shook her head and snuggled back into Frank’s arms. ‘‘This is cozy,’’ she said.
‘‘You know, you could have it on a more regular basis,’’ he said.
‘‘What do you mean?’’ she said.
‘‘You know what I mean. You need a home. Move in here. This is a big house. You can have your own space if that makes you feel easier about it. You can have the whole upstairs if you want it.’’
Diane was silent for several moments. It sounded like such a commitment—moving into Frank’s house. On the other hand, it felt really good nestled against Frank. She would like coming home to that.
‘‘I’m not hearing you say anything,’’ he said. ‘‘You need a place to stay while you look for a house. Just take your time looking. Try it out here for a while. You might like it. Besides,’’ he added, ‘‘I need someone who can cook lasagna like that.’’
Diane laughed and started to push him away, but he kissed her.
‘‘This is nice,’’ she said after a moment.
‘‘It’s more than nice,’’ he said. He rubbed his thumb across her lips. ‘‘It feels right, doesn’t it?’’
‘‘I’ll stay here while I’m looking,’’ she said.
‘‘Okay, I’ll take that as a yes,’’ he said and kissed her again.
‘‘I already have a lot of my things here,’’ she said.
‘‘See, it’s already working out,’’ said Frank.
‘‘You’re good to talk to,’’ she said. ‘‘This thing with Clymene and the artifacts have my mind completely occupied.’’
‘‘You think she’s a sociopath?’’ said Frank.
‘‘She says not,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Would you believe a sociopath?’’ asked Frank.
‘‘That’s the thing about Clymene. It’s easy to fall into believing her. And it’s not the big things; it’s the smaller ones, the subtleties, like her giving the money to Redding’s daughter and ex-wife. Was that sincere or just part of her act to make people believe in her? The same with her concern for Grace Noel and Eric Tully’s daughter. She really did
the daughter, and I believed it,
mene’s special gift,’’ said Diane.
seem concerned for but subtlety is Cly
‘‘Interesting case. I can see why Kingsley is fascinated by her. She must be a profiler’s dream girl. I’m going to get some ice cream,’’ he said. ‘‘Want some?’’
‘‘Yes, please. What kinds do you have?’’
Diane knew he had more than one flavor. Frank always got more food than he needed, just so he’d have lots of choices. She supposed that was why he had such a large freezer on his back porch.
Frank’s kitchen matched the rest of the house. The cabinetry was dark wood similar to the Queen Anne style of the house. His appliances were bright white and the floor was a deep green slate. It was a comfortable kitchen to cook in. Certainly more comfortable than the small kitchen in her apartment.
‘‘How about rum raisin?’’ he said.
‘‘Sounds fine.’’
Diane watched as he got two pints out and opened
them and gave her a spoon.
‘‘Out of the carton?’’ she said.
‘‘Of course. Only way to eat ice cream.’’ He
grinned, and they sat in the kitchen around the island and ate ice cream.
‘‘I won’t be able to eat all of this,’’ she said.
‘‘Save it for later. How is your artifact problem coming?’’ he asked.