“Would you use it?” Bruce asked.

“You don’t pay me enough.”

“Ha ha. In other words, what do you do when you want complete privacy?”

“I use sign language. Seriously, I assume nothing is private on the Internet so I post only what I don’t care about. Texting is a bit more private.”

“But you wouldn’t be afraid of this?”

“Probably not. You laundering money again?”

“Ha ha.” This, from a twenty-year-old kid. No respect.

Bruce went to the site, paid with a credit card, and said hello to 3838Bevel.

Bay Books here. Anybody home? Got the message. 050BartStarr.

Fifteen minutes passed, there was no answer, and his message vanished. He waited half an hour and tried again with the same result. With meaningful work now impossible, he puttered around his First Editions Room and tried to appear busy. He got a response on his third attempt.

Bevel here. What was Faulkner’s last novel?

The Reivers.

And Hemingway’s?

Old Man and the Sea.

Styron’s?

Sophie’s Choice.

Did Nelson’s last one have more than one title?

Don’t know.

“Pulse” is a nice title.

The book is pretty good too. What’s our risk here, on this site?

Are you a techie?

No, a cave man.

We’re safe. But you can assume some nasty folks are watching you.

Same ones who got Nelson?

Yep. Put nothing in writing. Assume they’re listening to your calls.

This is pretty intense.

So are they. Look at Nelson. Gotta run. 2 pm tomorrow.

Bruce stared at the screen until the entries faded. When it dawned on him that they were indeed gone forever, he scribbled down as much as he could remember. He left the store and walked to a wine bar where he ordered a seltzer water and pretended to read a magazine. He decided he would not tell Noelle until later. It could be a significant moment in the Nelson mystery, or not.

No, it had to be significant.

Little progress was made the following day during their second exchange. Bruce asked:

Why the letter?

We need to talk but not sure if we can.

About Nelson?

You catch on fast.

Look, if you want to talk, then let’s do it. So far we’re just dancing.

That’s probably safer.

Do you know who killed him?

I have a pretty good idea.

Why keep quiet?

Oh that’s much safer, believe me. Now there’s another dead body.

Am I expected to respond?

A young lady in Kentucky.

Again, I’m treading water.

Better go. Same time tomorrow.

Bruce tried to print the exchange but the site wouldn’t allow it. He quickly scribbled down the words.

The following day, Bevel was a no-show. Same for the day after. Bruce did not want to alarm Noelle, so he didn’t tell her.

2.

Two days later, Bruce flew to Washington Dulles and went to his hotel room near the airport. Three hours later, Nick Sutton arrived by car and brought a girl with him, which Bruce had not anticipated. Nick assured him she would not get in the way and had family in the area.

After a leisurely semester abroad in Venice, Nick was drifting through his final weeks at Wake Forest and claimed to be in a funk at the prospect of leaving college. Bruce had little sympathy and told the kid it was time to get off his ass and find a real job, not the usual summertime bookstore gig where he split his time between reading crime novels and stalking college girls on the beach. Nick wanted to write fiction for a living and do it the old-fashioned way, with a big advance that allowed him to work at a leisurely pace of a few pages a day before long lunches and plenty of booze. His dream was to become a famous writer and hell-raiser at a young age, much in the tradition of Hemingway, Faulkner, and Fitzgerald, though he planned to put aside literary aspirations and write mysteries that would sell. Bruce thought he had talent but was already worried about his work ethic.

They quickly retired to the hotel bar and ordered sandwiches, without the girl. Bruce summarized the developments in the state’s investigation, of which there were few, and described his own efforts to solve the crime with Alpha North Solutions. Nick loved the idea of hiring a secretive security outfit to handle an investigation that the police were in the process of botching.

Bruce wanted him in the room because, so far, his instincts had been near-perfect. And because he was only twenty-one, he was far tech-savvier than Bruce could ever hope to be.

Bruce showed him the transcript of the two exchanges with 3838Bevel.

“A huge step in the right direction,” Nick said with a satisfied smile. “This is our guy, the snitch who knows it all and contacted Nelson with the goods. Beautiful.”

“But he’s gone silent. How do we get him back in the loop?”

“Money. That was his motivation to begin with. How much did you get for the novel?”

“Three hundred thousand.”

“Has that been reported?”

“No, but the sale has. Bevel certainly knows there’s a book deal.”

“And Bevel wants the cut that Nelson promised. He’s not going away, but he’s also afraid of his shadow.”