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         William heard the click of Lucy’s key in the lock. She had been angry at him since Friday. And he deserved it, but it was cold here in Siberia. He tensed. She was staying with him. The least she could do was be nice to him.

         But it was his fault someone had tossed her room and taken the gun.

         “Hey dawg,” she called and he knew with relief that she was in a good mood.

         “You’re home early,” he said.

         “Yeah,” she said. “Nobody scheduled this afternoon.”

         He finished pouring his coffee and caught a glimpse of the Tyvek envelope from the guy who had buried the old guy. “Hey Lucy,” he said. “this came a day or two ago. I forgot to tell you.”

         He tossed her the envelope.

         She looked inside and frowned. “What’s this?” she asked.

         “I dunno,” William said.

         She pulled out the book and thumbed through it. After a minute she sank down onto his couch. “This is weird,” she said.

         “What is it?”

         “Just names and dates, mostly. And places. A lot in South America. Some of them go back to World War II.” She studied a page, a strand of hair falling into her face. “Was there anything else with it?”

         William went back in the kitchen and looked in the envelope. “Yeah,” he said. He brought her back the envelope and she pulled out a picture and a note. The picture was of three GI’s and on the back it said, ‘Jerry’ ‘Lucky’ ‘me’ She looked at it and at the note.

         She handed the note to William. It said. “Maurice knew your uncle during the war. He said that he was looking into Robert’s death because it was an old debt. These were all I could find from that War. Good luck finding out what has happened.”

         It was signed ‘Justice be served, Simon.’

         “Too bad Maurice is dead,” William said.


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