“Yes, in fact, I just helped a young woman unload a poseur the other day by using it to prove that the person chatting with her online was using an Australian model’s picture as his profile pic. Of course, in this case, it depends upon whether that woman has had her picture posted on the internet, but if she did, we might find a match.” Lindsey climbed into her seat.
“That kind of freaks me out,” he said. “In an oh-my-God-there-really-is-no-privacy sort of way.”
“Says the guy who doesn’t have a social media page,” she teased.
“I have one for the business.”
“That Charlie runs,” she said. “Believe me, I’m not judging. I never go on social media either, and after all of this weirdness with Grady, I might delete all of my accounts. I’m beginning to feel like the most valuable things I possess are my privacy and my time.”
“You’re not wrong,” Sully said. He closed her door and circled the front of the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. “How accurate is the reverse-image technology?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only used it the one time, and it worked pretty well,” she said.
“So it’s possible.” Sully let out a low whistle.
He started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Lindsey opened up her phone and searched for different reverse-image apps. There were several. Some charged a fee, but she figured she’d wait until she was desperate before she broke down and paid for a search. She opened her internet browser, the same one she had on her library computer, and loaded the picture of the mystery woman from Grady’s shed.
She felt her heart hammer in her chest a bit as the search wheel spun. It took a minute, but several images were finally loaded. There was no match. There were images that were similar in composition but none that matched the picture Lindsey had uploaded. She did a search for different reverse image search apps and tried another one. This time there were no matches, but the website offered to go more in depth if she’d enter her credit card. Hard pass. She chose another website, and again, there were matches that they would be happy to share for her credit card info. Nope. She opened another just as Sully was pulling into the driveway.
She uploaded the photo and hopped out of the truck while the website did its magic. Sully led the way up the stairs to the house. As soon as he opened the door, Heathcliff made a beeline for Lindsey, practically knocking the phone out of her hand in his need to get to her.
Lindsey stopped staring at the screen and gave Heathcliff her attention. She kissed his head and told him he was a good boy. Then she rubbed his ears and his belly. When he was satisfied, he flopped down on the ground in front of Sully for more of the same.
While the menfolk went through their greeting ritual, Lindsey glanced down at her phone. She stared at the results and frowned. It showed one hit. She figured it would be another mistake. She opened up the page that the image linked to, and her heart dropped into her feet. There was no mistake.
The image matched the picture of the woman from Grady’s gardening shed exactly and her name was listed as Mrs. Sylvia Grady.
CHAPTER
16
You all right?” Sully said. “You look pale.”
Lindsey turned her phone around so he could see the article.
“What?” He rose to his feet and took the phone. He scanned the article. It was a wedding announcement for Aaron and Sylvia Grady from twenty-eight years ago. “How is this possible? This is not the Sylvia Grady we know. There’s no way. Even with age, her hair and eye color are wrong, and so is the shape of her face. This isn’t her.”
“I agree,” Lindsey said. “Off the top of my head, I’d say it’s a mistake. Maybe the wrong picture was published with the announcement, or maybe he married twice and both women were named Sylvia.”
Sully shook his head. “This is bad. Really bad. If it was a mistake, why did he have the picture in his shed?”
“Maybe he got attached to it when it ran in the paper,” Lindsey speculated.
Sully looked dubious. He led the way into the house, stepping into the kitchen while Lindsey leaned against the doorjamb.
“I planned to ask Trudy Glass, the woman from the Berkshire Rose Club, if she recognized the woman in the photo,” Lindsey said. “Maybe she knows something about the picture or what it might have meant to Grady.”
“Worth a shot,” Sully agreed. He glanced around their kitchen as if trying to remember why he was there. Then he looked at her and asked, “Frozen pizza for dinner?”
Lindsey gave him a thumbs-up. “How about beverages for an appetizer? It’s been a heck of a day.”
“I’ll start pouring,” he said.
Lindsey wandered into the living room. She had called Trudy from her office before, so this time she had to look up the number of the rose club and hope that it was tied to Trudy’s personal phone. She didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.
She hit the link to call from the website and waited. Sully brought her a glass of wine. Their eyes met and she shrugged.
“Hello.” A woman answered the call, and Lindsey recognized Trudy’s voice.
“Hi, Trudy?” she said. “This is Lindsey Norris. We spoke the other day about your rose club.”
“Oh, hello, Lindsey,” Trudy said. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I have another question for you,” Lindsey said. “I have a photograph of a woman who we are trying to identify, and I was wondering if you could take a look at it?”
“Oh, all right,” Trudy said. “Is there any reason you think I might know her?”
“She’s known for enjoying roses, and I think she might be from your area,” Lindsey said. It was vague, but maybe it would be enough.
“Oh, okay,” Trudy said. “Can you send it to my phone in a text message?”
“Sure,” Lindsey said. She tried not to get excited, knowing that Trudy might not recognize the photo. “To the same number?”
“Yes, please, I’m on my cell.”
“All right, let me see.” Lindsey opened her photos and quickly texted the picture to Trudy.
She heard the other woman’s phone chime.
“Just a sec, let me grab my glasses,” Trudy said.
There was a pause, and Lindsey could hear rustling noises. Then there was silence. For a moment Lindsey wondered whether they’d been cut off, but Trudy came back on the line.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why are you sending me a picture of Mrs. Grady?”
“Excuse me,” Lindsey said. “Could you repeat that?”
“That’s Sylvia, Aaron’s wife, although the picture looks much older than when I knew her,” Trudy said. “I think one time she told me that they’d been married for over twenty-five years.”
“Really?” Lindsey asked. Sully had put the pizza in the oven and was back, sipping his beer and watching her with raised eyebrows.
“Yes, she and Aaron went to high school together in Maine, somewhere around Bar Harbor, if I remember right,” she said. “Aaron often talked about how the thick fog that rolled in from the ocean made growing roses effortless up there.”
“Maine—Sylvia and Aaron Grady were originally from Maine?” Lindsey asked just to clarify.
“Yes, that’s what they said,” Trudy said. “I’m sure of it.”
“And you are absolutely sure that the woman in the photo is Mrs. Sylvia Grady,” Lindsey said.
“Absolutely, she used to make the best lasagna at the club Christmas party every year, with little sausages. It was always a favorite,” she said.
“Thank you, Trudy, you’ve been a huge help,” Lindsey said.
“Oh, well, I’m happy to,” Trudy said. “Mrs. Grady isn’t in trouble, is she? I know Aaron was killed, but she didn’t have anything to do with that, did she? I always liked her. She was so patient and kind. I’d hate t
o think that something has happened to her.”
“Truthfully, I’m not sure,” Lindsey said. “But I promise if I learn anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, I’d appreciate that,” Trudy said. “You should come see our rose show at the end of the summer. It’s really quite spectacular.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lindsey said. She was just being polite. She didn’t think her relationship with roses was ever going to recover after all of this.
The call ended, and she tossed her phone onto the coffee table and took a long sip of wine.
“I take it Trudy recognized the picture as Grady’s wife, Sylvia,” Sully said. His voice sounded as grave as Lindsey felt. “And there’s something about Maine?”
“The Gradys were from Maine before they moved to the Berkshires,” she said. “So the reverse image search was correct, and the woman in the photograph is Sylvia Grady.”
Lindsey put down her glass and picked up her phone again. She opened the wedding announcement, which was from June first, nineteen ninety. She studied the accompanying picture, which was just of Sylvia and matched the one in the shed.
She thought it was odd that Aaron Grady wasn’t pictured. But there was no doubt that Sully was right. This Sylvia was not the Sylvia they knew. The shape of the face was different, and so were the eyes and hair. She scanned the brief information. The wedding was in Bar Harbor, which matched what Trudy had said, and it listed Sylvia as working for a company called Sunrise Health Insurance, while Aaron Grady was an economics professor at the local community college. Lastly, the article mentioned that the couple would be relocating to the Berkshires in Massachusetts where they’d start their married life together.
“This makes no sense,” she said. “The woman we know as Sylvia Grady is definitely not this Sylvia Grady.”
“You don’t happen to have a photo of the current Sylvia to do a reverse image search with, do you?” Sully asked.
“No, darn it.” Lindsey frowned.
The oven chimed, and Sully went to fetch the pizza while Heathcliff jumped onto the couch and propped his head on her leg. Lindsey absently rubbed his ears while she thought about all she had learned. She suspected Emma already knew the identity of the woman in the photograph, but Lindsey sent her a text anyway.
She kept it short and said that she’d done a reverse image search on the picture from the gardening shed and that the name that came up was Sylvia Grady and it was tagged to a newspaper article that announced her wedding to Aaron Grady. She also said that Trudy Glass of the Berkshire Rose Club confirmed the identity.
Sully reappeared with their pizza on two plates and sat down beside her, skillfully avoiding Heathcliff’s nose as he tried to get a good sniff of their dinner.
“Your dinner is in your bowl,” Sully said. Heathcliff perked up at that and scampered off the couch to the kitchen, where his food and water were kept.
“I texted what we learned to Emma,” Lindsey said. She leaned back against the couch and took her plate from him. “How mad do you think she’s going to be?”
“Hard to say,” Sully said. “Mostly, she just gets mad if you put yourself in danger. She takes her oath to serve and protect very seriously.”
“Which is why we love her,” Lindsey said.
“Agreed,” he said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and Robbie will learn something useful while he’s on the island with her.”
“You’re right,” Lindsey said. “It’s almost like having a liaison in the police department.”
“Until we know more, you’ll need to remain on your guard,” he said. “I almost asked Emma if she could put you in a safe house, too.”
“There is no house safer than this one,” she said. Sully smiled, but it didn’t quite cover the worry in his eyes.
She took her empty plate and his into the kitchen. Then she called to Heathcliff to go outside before they locked up the house for the night. She let Heathcliff out the back door and stood on the deck while he ran around the backyard. There was just the slightest breeze coming in from the ocean, and she hoped it was a sign that the drought might end and some rain would come their way.
The door opened behind her, and Sully joined her. She smiled at him and said, “Not letting me out of your sight, huh?”
“Not anytime soon,” he said. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, and Lindsey wished it could chase away the feeling of unease that had dogged her since they’d found Grady’s body. It couldn’t. Nothing could until they discovered who had killed Grady and why.
* * *
• • •
Lindsey didn’t hear from Emma that night, confirming her suspicion that Emma already knew what she had uncovered. In the morning, she dressed for work in the coolest clothes she could find: a white cotton blouse and skirt in a decidedly bohemian style. She brought a sweater with her because she knew the building and her office in particular would be cold once the air-conditioning got cranking.
Sully dropped her off at the library, waiting in his truck until she was safely inside. Ms. Cole had arrived before her, and Lindsey followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee into the staff break room, where she poured herself a cup. After greeting Ms. Cole, she holed up in her office to make some calls.
Her first call was to the rose club near Bar Harbor. No one answered, so she left a message. Then she did a quick search for Sunrise Health Insurance’s offices and noted they had offices in Bar Harbor and the Berkshires. It seemed likely that Sylvia had transferred her position instead of quitting. Lindsey wanted to talk to someone who had known Sylvia. If she’d worked for the company for years, maybe they could shed some light on what had become of her. When the website came up, she gasped. Their logo, a medical insignia in front of a sunrise, was familiar.
She tried to remember where she’d seen it. It had been on a suit jacket. A patron? One of her coworkers? No, she’d been outside when she saw it. Then she remembered it had been the current Sylvia who’d been wearing it, the day she’d accosted Lindsey and Chloe. Did that mean she worked for Sunrise Health Insurance, too? Could Grady have married two women who worked for the same company who were both named Sylvia? She was getting a weird feeling about all of this.
There was only one way to find out. Lindsey placed a call to the company. It was early, but maybe she could talk her way into some information.
“Good morning, Sunrise Health Insurance, how may I direct your call?”
“Hi, I’m checking the references for an employee who used to work in your offices,” Lindsey said. “A Sylvia Grady? I’d like to speak with whoever her supervisor used to be, if I could? I’m sorry—I seem to have misplaced the direct number.”
“That’s all right. I remember Sylvia. Such a nice lady. I was so sad when she transferred to Connecticut. Her supervisor was Jean Handler, and she’s here, so I can put you through. One moment, please,” the woman said.
“Great, thanks.” Lindsey felt as if she’d just cleared a hurdle. She hoped she could bluff her way through this conversation.
“Hello, this is Jean Handler. How can I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Lindsey Sullivan,” Lindsey said. She blinked. She hadn’t planned to use a fake name, but it seemed like a good idea. Still, she had never said what would become her married name out loud before. In fact, she’d never even thought about it, but now that she heard it, it sounded pretty cool. But wait, was she going to take Sully’s name? She didn’t know. This was one more wedding decision for which she was unprepared.
“How can I help you, Ms. Sullivan?”
Lindsey shook her head. Focus! “I’m calling to check on the references of one of your former employees, a Sylvia Grady.”
“Sylvia, oh, she was such a lovely woman,” Jean said. “How is she? Is she enjoying Connecticut? Has her health improved? We were all sad when she had to transfer so quickly from Western
Massachusetts to the Connecticut shore.”
“Well, she certainly seems robust,” Lindsey said. “I’m calling because we’re considering her for a position of employment, and we just wanted to hear what your thoughts were when working with her.”
“Sylvia was an exemplary employee,” Jean said. “She was fast, thorough and efficient. She took on other people’s work when they fell behind. She was a real team player. Honestly, when she left, it felt like someone had severed my right arm.”
“Why did she leave again?”
“Her allergies,” Jean said. “They got so severe she was in the hospital. The doctor’s orders were for her to move to a place with less pollen, so her husband packed her up and off they went.”
“Just like that?” she asked.
“Pretty much. Aaron absolutely doted on her, always bringing her flowers from his garden, or he’d surprise her with lunch,” Jean said. “But then she got sick. One day she was here, and the next she was gone, taking a lateral transfer to the Connecticut office. Even her team had no idea she was going to be leaving us.”
“Do they still work there?”
“Let me think,” Jean said. “This was a little over a year ago. I know that one of them left at the same time she did, giving no notice, which was a huge hit to the department, but the other two are still here.”
Lindsey tried not to sound too eager when she asked, “Do you have their names? Just in case we need to do more in-depth research.”
There was silence on the other end of the call, and Lindsey wondered whether she’d overplayed her hand.
“Who did you say you were with again?” Jean asked.
“The town of Briar Creek, actually,” Lindsey said.
“Oh, a government job, I get it,” Jean said. “You can’t be too careful.”
“Exactly.” Lindsey forced a laugh that she hoped didn’t sound too strained.
“Let’s see. The woman who left at the same time was Ava Klausner, so she won’t be able to help you, but the other two, Sonya Davids and Chrissy Sellers, they’re still here.”
Word to the Wise Page 17