Page 39 of Gem Warfare

Garrett and I exchanged a look. I wondered if he were thinking the same as me: that was a good excuse not to be photographed.

“Do you mind if I take this?” asked Garrett, leaning over Mom’s shoulder.

“Go ahead, but I’d appreciate it if you returned it; otherwise I’ll have a gap in this book and I don’t know what I’ll fill it with.”

“I’ll make a copy and return it,” said Garrett, sliding thephoto from its transparent pocket. He retrieved the other photo and pocketed them both. He grabbed our plates and headed for the dishwasher. “Thanks for lunch. I have to head back to the station.”

“I have things to do too,” I said, standing up.

“Here’s the camera!” said Dad, returning. “Oh! Are you going? Don’t you want to see how it takes real film? You have to open the case and stick it in the slot.”

“I’ll check it out in a museum,” said Garrett as Dad flashed the camera’s cavity at us with pride.

“I found a photo,” said Mom. “We did take one with your camera! Garrett, I’d appreciate an update. It’s horrible to think poor Joe might have been buried in his own backyard. He didn’t deserve that, regardless of whatever he did. Whatdidhe do?”

“No idea,” said Garrett.

Mom turned her attention to me, narrowing her eyes. “Was he in witness protection?” she asked, placing a hand to her chest. “Was it mob-related?”

“I don’t know any more than Garrett! Was he close to any of the other neighbors?” I asked.

“I couldn’t say. The house next to Joe’s was empty for a while around then. Yes, that’s right. A tree fell through their roof and they had to move out for months but I don’t recall if that was before or after he left... disappeared. Anyway, yes, I think they moved in before Joe did.”

“I went by the house earlier and there’s a lot of mail and a parcel on the porch. Are the homeowners away?”

“Tom died last year and Bea just moved to a retirement community. Although I’m not sure if she’s visiting her son in Maine. Or maybe the other son in New Jersey. Anyway, I’m not sure if the house is sold yet. I’ll ask if she wants the mail collected.”

“What about the other neighbors?”

“Some of the other neighboring homes turned hands more than once so it’s hard to say if he was particularly friendly with anyone. Do you remember?” she asked my dad.

Dad shrugged. “I think he came to some of the neighborhood socials but I was busy working back then and hung out with my cop buddies mostly. He wasn’t really my kind of fellow.”

“Why was that?” asked Garrett.

“I don’t really recall. It could have been because I was just busy more than Joe’s personality. I had my career and an awful lot of children coming and going.”

“And now he has shelves to put up,” said Mom. She glanced at her watch and made a show of shooing us to the door. “I have an afternoon glassblowing class to get to. There’s a quiz afterwards and I don’t want to be late. I thought I might make something in my free time for the Dugans to cheer them up. I already gave the basket from my basketweaving class to Serena for Victoria’s room. She was thrilled.”

I doubted that and I didn’t dare ask what glassblowing entailed; I was just content Mom didn’t try to sign me up too. Perhaps one day my mother’s thirst for learning and hobbies might abate but until then, I was glad she found things to do that she enjoyed.

“It looks like we might have narrowed down our deceased to a likely suspect,” I said to Garrett as we walked out together. “Joe Smithson could be him.”

“Could be. Mom’s photo only partially shows his face. It’s not enough for an identification but it could be the man in the driver’s license. I’ll run everything I can on this Smithson guy when I’m back at my desk. He could just have been a tenant who moved on.”

“I’ll look up property records and verify the list of names Mom gave us. Perhaps the landlord will still be around?”

“Good idea. The ME bumped the corpse up the list so I expectto have something on that tomorrow too. I’ll update you when I can.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll see if I can learn anything out about the boy. Perhaps I’ll find something we can cross-reference, and if he’s his son, it might lead to a genuine identity. Joe Smithson has to be a fake name so I doubt I’ll find a boy named Smithson at that school.”

“I smell a rat about this Joe for sure but Mom’s other information about the residents might turn up something. Until we get something concrete, all leads are still on the table.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Hey, there’s something I was curious about. Is there an obvious cause of death or does the ME need to investigate further?”

“The ME needs to investigate for a definitive report but I had a look before they took the body away and I think I can give you an answer. There appeared to be a small caliber gunshot wound to the temple. I haven’t seen many gunshot wounds on an almost entirely decomposed skeleton before so I need the ME to confirm it but she seemed reasonably sure at the scene.”

“He could have done that to himself,” I said.

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