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that Hallie Miller and Marina Courtland were one and the same person.
    â€œTwo girls murdered or missing at the same time from the same apartment building. Seems unlikely, unless we have a serial killer on our hands. I’ll call Luis when we get home. I’m awfully afraid a homicide detective is what’s in order.”
    â€œOh my, Daniel will be devastated if you’re right,” Cynthia said. “In the circumstances, I’m glad I didn’t run on about Darcy Watson, even though she’s a menace around the Cygnus Club. Makes her presence known with her deep, husky voice, usually at full cry. Not that she needs to say anything—she’s well over six feet. Not to mention the exotic Indian outfits she always seems to wear. I believe they’re called salwar kameezes .”
    â€œWhere the hell did you pick up that little bit of learning?” Reuben asked his wife.
    â€œLet’s just say I get around. For your edification, the kameez is a kind of shirt and the salwar a kind of loose pants.”
    â€œI’ll be damned,” Reuben said.
    When Reuben reached Bautista at home, he asked the detective to join him the next morning. Luis protested that he was completely tied up with the Hallie Miller case.
    â€œI may be dead wrong, but I think coming with me in the morning would be time well spent.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œNever mind. Just take it on faith, or at least my say-so. And bring along whatever information you have on Ms. Miller.”
    â€œI don’t get any of this.”
    â€œI think you will.”

Four
    Reconnaissance
    Reuben wanted to explain his Hallie/Marina theory to Bautista before Courtland arrived, so he asked the detective to come to the Frosts’ town house at nine thirty the next morning. Always prompt, his friend arrived precisely at the requested time.
    â€œMaybe,” Luis said, when the hypothesis had been laid out for him. “It’s better than anything we’ve got so far. And we ought to be able to cinch it when your Mr. Courtland arrives.”
    â€œHow so?”
    Luis produced a photograph of a young woman, rather pretty even in a blurred, black-and-white mug shot. “This was printed off the fake driver’s license Hallie Miller had on her. If it’s really Miss Courtland, her father can certainly tell us that.”
    â€œOf course. But let me do some preliminaries when he gets here. He knows nothing of my theory. We should be gentle if the facts are as we—or at least I—think they are.”
    Courtland arrived, also as instructed, on the dot of ten o’clock. Reuben introduced him to Bautista and the three sat down in the living room. The host offered the other two coffee, but they declined.
    â€œDan, I think you should know that Officer Bautista, who is an old friend of mine, is a homicide detective. He is currently working on the case of a young woman, whose name may or may not be Hallie Miller, found dead over near the East River. You think she died when, Luis?”
    â€œThe best estimate is some time last Friday evening.”
    â€œYou look perplexed,” Reuben went on, looking directly at Daniel. “I can understand that. But it’s possible that there may be a connection between this dead woman and your daughter. You see, both Ms. Miller, if that is her name, and your Marina have the same address—Ladbroke House.” Reuben nodded to Luis; it was his turn to continue the narrative.
    â€œMr. Courtland, I think we can clear this up very quickly. I have here a picture of the woman who was murdered—strangled—and left near the FDR Drive. May I show it to you?”
    â€œOf course,” Courtland said hoarsely.
    â€œTake a look and tell us if this is your daughter.”
    Courtland glanced at the picture he had been handed, threw it down on the coffee table in front of him, and turned away, his mouth open wide and breathing deeply and