Page 33 of Miss Wolcott’s Ghost

“There’s a community of them?”

For a moment, both imagined what that might look like.

“Virtual,” said the rookie agent. “There. Is that the man you met here?” He pointed at the screen, triumphant.

“No.”

“No?”

“Not even close.”

On the screen was a photo of an older man, in his sixties, maybe seventies. Distinguished, in a suit and tie.

“That’s not the same man. Ours was much younger.”

She read the write-up under the picture. It described this Brian Fillmore as the founder and CEO of Réunion Inc., a Montréal-based company that used DNA and genealogy research to track down relatives and reunite families.

Using state-of-the-art technology combined with good old-fashioned investigative skills by our professional teams, we repair and make whole your family tree. Reuniting families and restoring deep roots and strong limbs.

“Wow, they sure know how to torture an analogy,” said Ruth. “Know what else restores deep roots?” By this time, Agent Ferdinand wasn’t falling for it. He remained silent. “Bullshit,” said the old poet.

“Well, it’s bullshit that hundreds of thousands worldwide have signed onto. It only started ten years ago, and it’s already made him hundreds of millions. Eccentric, for sure, a recluse. What’s called stealth wealth.”

“Clever. But the guy I met wasn’t a recluse. He was friendly, outgoing even. Interesting. Well traveled. He was in the pharmaceutical industry, I think, or no, wait. Vitamins. We had a discussion about ginkgo biloba.”

“Ginkgo Biloba? The main character in Rocky?”

It took Ruth a beat to understand what he was saying, and a further beat to recognize he must be kidding. It was a very long moment during which the young agent wondered if in trying to make a joke, he’d actually stepped on a rake.

Doiiing.

Then she laughed. The fact it sounded like the madman from every horror movie he’d ever seen was a little off-putting.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The duck, her familiar, was leering at him. Did ducks have teeth? It seemed an important question.

“You say this man has disappeared?”

“I don’t. The conspiracy theorists do. No one’s seen him in months.”

“Well, isn’t that a necessary part of stealth wealth? The stealth part. It must be voluntary. He doesn’t want his own greedy relatives leeching off him, now that he has money.”

“I guess.”

“Wouldn’t it be easy to prove if something bad happened to him? If he’s the CEO of a huge company, someone would miss him.”

“I agree, it’s unlikely.”

“Well, I can tell you that he’s not the same guy who came down here. Same name, but not the same person.”

“Too bad.” Agent Ferdinand reluctantly closed the page.

He’d thought he was onto something. That his insight would blow the case wide open. Wide open! The Chief Inspector would be in awe. In his debt. And would ask, beg, him to join homicide.

He would accept.

The end.

Except it wasn’t the end. He wondered if maybe he shouldn’t dig a little deeper. He could at least ask his dad about the guy and the rumors.