Dead Letters(34)

“Viticulture. I had an identity crisis. Switched gears.”

“And they let you do that? Without any, well, background?”

“The school I go to in Paris isn’t especially particular about that sort of thing. A college degree and a check for tuition pretty much sealed the deal. One of the reasons I picked it. That, and it was an ocean away from my family. And the wine’s better.”

The cop smiles at me thinly and scribbles something in his notebook. “And you haven’t returned home at all during that time?”

“That’s right.”

“The TracFone was purchased three months ago, right after your sister came to visit you in Paris—”

“Wait, what?” I shake my head at him. “Zelda never came to Paris,” I say, my eyes wide.

Healy frowns at his file and pulls out a printout. “We have records showing that she purchased a plane ticket using your mother’s credit card, and that she used the same credit card to pay for a hotel in Paris, just three months ago. She was there for four days.” He looks at me suspiciously, and I can tell he suspects I’m lying.

“She didn’t tell me,” I say. “Seriously.” I read the address of the hotel: H?tel Victoires Opéra, on rue Montorgueil, less than two minutes away from my apartment. Zelda, what were you doing there? Spying on me? “The hotel is near where I lived—live—but she never told me she was coming, and I didn’t meet her. I haven’t spoken to Zelda in twenty-six months. I don’t even know how she knew where to find me.” I’m rattled, but I don’t want Healy to know.

“Two years?” he asks.

“It was a boy thing. Just…a sibling rivalry that got out of hand.”

“How out of hand?”

Great, I think, I’ve just added myself to the suspect list. No doubt as Zelda wanted. “I just didn’t want to talk to her anymore. I needed space.”

Healy nods and makes a note, looking very serious. “Okay. Well. She bought two phones after she returned from France, one in your name and one in hers, and canceled her iPhone contract with Verizon. She had apparently been using the TracFone since then, and we suspect that she gave the one registered in your name to this Jason kid and instructed him to text her only from that phone. Any ideas why she would do that?”

“None at all, Officer. Zelda could be a little eccentric.”

“It makes it that much more difficult for us to find this Jason.”

“I imagine that has something to do with it,” I offer sweetly.

He stares at me down his swollen nose, dislike sneaking back into his expression. “Were you aware that there were some financial problems going on with your family’s vineyard?” he asks, his tone somewhat harsh.

“Like I said, I haven’t been home, and Zelda and I haven’t spoken. I just found out about the loans yesterday.”

“Apparently, Zelda Antipova made her first payment on a substantial loan just yesterday at the credit union here in Watkins Glen, which we thought was very strange,” he says.

I can’t help turning mildly pink. “That was me, obviously. I wanted to know how much she was in for, and I didn’t think the bank would be allowed to tell me. So I used Zelda’s ID. Evidently, she’s been having some money issues,” I say. “You know how to make a small fortune from a vineyard in upstate New York?”

“Start with a large one,” he answers, not looking up. There isn’t a person in this county who hasn’t heard or told that joke. “We think she may have gotten rid of the iPhone to cut costs, save some money. We also think she’s gotten into some other…side businesses.” I know this won’t be good. “She made several cash deposits in the months before she died, a couple hundred dollars each, and, with the exception of the trip to Paris, she hasn’t used a debit or credit card in six months. Any idea what she’s been living off?”

“I bet you want me to say ‘cash,’?” I answer obediently. Increasingly, I feel like I’m here to be informed, rather than to offer up information.

“That is what we’re thinking. Does the name Holly Whitaker mean anything to you?” Healy asks suddenly.

I pause.

“Nope,” I say.

“Well, she just posted a photo on Facebook a little while ago, tagged your sister in it. In fact, she’s one of your sister’s most active Facebook friends.”

“How did you guys get into her Facebook account? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Trent, the kid at the desk, he’s apparently Facebook friends with Zelda. He’s been looking at her page.”

I am actually impressed with this. I bet Zelda wasn’t counting on that. Then again, in this neck of the woods, you’d have to be an idiot to forget that everybody knows somebody who knows more about you than you thought. Healy seemed almost bashful as he told me this, though.

“Good sleuthing, Detective. But no, I don’t know Holly…Whitaker, did you say? We didn’t go to high school together, and I’m not friends with my sister on Facebook.”

“What did you say that ‘sibling rivalry’ was all about?”

“I didn’t.” We stare each other down. I win.

“And you’ve never heard of anyone named Jason? Anyone around town? From school?”