hopeless.â
âFake an investigation?â Hannibal asked, slowly rising to his feet. Lippincott nodded. Hannibal stepped close to the doctor and slid his dark glasses away from his face. His eyes flared deep green and he pressed one fingertip deep into Lippincottâs chest.
âListen well, Doctor,â he said through clenched teeth. âI might not take this case. If I figure itâs hopeless Iâll say so. Or, I might give it a shot, and if I do, Iâll do my very best to find the boy. But understand there is no third option for me. I work in two modes. The best I got, or not at all.â
âSounds like youâre the man I want.â
Hannibal looked up to watch the source of that deep booming voice stalking toward him, very fast for a man his size. The handshake was fierce, the eyes crinkled points of brown fire. âIâm Harlan Mortimer.â
-5-
âWill you find my son, Mister Jones?â Mortimer asked.
âIâll decide when Iâve got a little more to go on,â Hannibal said, pushing his dark glasses back into place.
âRight,â Mortimer said dropping into the chair Hannibal had occupied before. âWhat can I do to help you do your job?â
âWell, first you can tell me something about your son, like why he left.â
Camille entered carrying a tray and walked straight to her father-in-law. He took a tall glass from the tray, after which she moved around the room, prompting everyone to a seat by placing a lemonade for them. Hannibal took his glass from its place on the coffee table but chose to stand. His eyes stayed on Mortimer.
âJacob left my home because I removed him from my will,â Mortimer said. Hannibal saw not a trace of remorse or guilt on his face.
âYou cast him out.â
âNo, just out of my money,â Mortimer said. âJacob, his wife and his then unborn son would have been welcome in my home forever. He lost his inheritance because he got another girl pregnant.â
âAh, yes, the other girl.â Hannibal sipped his lemonade and glared at Lippincott. âDo YOU remember her name, Mister Mortimer?â
âJacob called her Dolly. I donât think that was her real name, but rather a nickname. A pet name. Donât know her real name. Girl looked like a whore. Acted like it too.â
âI see.â Hannibal stepped a bit closer to Mortimerâs chair. âHow about some of his friends? People he hung out with?â
A small grimace. âNever knew any of his friends. When he dropped out of George Washington University, he fell in with a bad crowd. Left over left wing drug types.â
âUh huh. Not much there.â Hannibal gulped the last of his lemonade. Then he moved forward until only inches of gleaming hardwood flooring separated his toes from Mortimerâs. âWhere did he go? What were his favorite places to hang out?â
To his credit, Mortimer showed a glimmer of regret now. âAfraid I donât know any of the places he used to go.â
Hannibal bent to place his now empty glass on the table beside Mortimerâs. His head turned toward Mortimer and his voice dropped almost to a whisper. âLook. This kid weâre talking about. Did you know him at all? Had you met this guy?â
Mortimerâs voice returned to booming. âIf I knew where he went, do you think Iâd have let him just disappear with my coins?â
-6-
The copper disc glinted between Hannibalâs fingers. Even in its fancy case it looked no more valuable than any other newly minted penny to him. He tried to imagine the pleasure in owning something so outwardly common.
âThatâs a nineteen fifty-five double die obverse,â Mortimer said behind him. âSee how the back is restruck off center? Thatâs a minting mistake. There probably arenât a dozen of those around. I keep a few of my prizes on display. That night, before he left,