Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [32]
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve been trying to track down Gretel’s brother, but I can’t figure out how to do that if the police can’t even find him.”
“How do you know they’re even looking? Come over to my office, I’ve got an idea or two about that.”
I locked up my apartment and walked down the hallway to Markum’s office with him. I traced a finger across the gold leaf letters salvage and recovery on his door as I passed through it.
He’d changed some of the travel posters on the walls since I’d been inside, and I was staring at one of Belize as he slipped behind his desk. Markum pulled a notebook computer out and started tapping some keys.
I asked, “What are you doing, looking for him on Google?”
“I’ve got a better search engine than that, my friend. At least I do for the information we’re looking for.”
“Do I want to know more than that?” I asked.
Markum laughed. “Probably not. Hum,” he said as he stared at his screen. “Now isn’t that interesting?”
“What is?”
“There’s no photograph of Hans Barnett on file here, though there are several of Gretel Barnett.”
“So he’s camera shy,” I said. “I know lots of folks that don’t like to have their pictures taken.”
Markum scratched his head. “But do they hate it enough to move to a state with no photos on their driver’s licenses?”
“That could just be a coincidence,” I said.
Markum shrugged. “Maybe, but it appears our boy has been avoiding the camera for years. Wait a second, let me try something else.” He tapped more keys, then said, “Blast it all, that’s a dead end, too.”
“Do we really need a picture of the man to track him down?” I asked.
“It wouldn’t hurt. Besides, I find it helps me in my search if I can match a face with every name. It can be embarrassing to bump into your quarry and let him slip right past you just because you weren’t thorough enough to find out what the gent looked like. I’ve got other sources, but not at my fingertips. Let me try something else.” After a few moments, he smiled gently. “That’s more like it. Here’s a web page Gretel did herself a few years ago. It hasn’t been updated for ages, but there’s something about her brother here.” As Markum read, he shared the information with me. “Okay, based on what she’s written here, the gentleman in question has gray hair that was once brown, he’s of average height and weight, he’s got cool blue eyes—whatever that means—he’s left-handed and he used to collect rare coins. His resume is a human resources director’s nightmare. From this one entry, it looks like he’s worked in a bank, on a farm, and at a hardware store; he’s worked as a carnie on the midway and he’s been a masseur. It’s not much to go on, is it?”
“It’s more than I was able to track down. You got all that from her web page?” I was impressed. While I knew a few things about computers, mostly my skills covered just enough to be able to sell them in another life before I’d come to At Wick’s End. I’d even resisted getting a cell phone, mainly because I didn’t want to be that accessible to anyone.
“Some people treat these pages like diaries,” Markum said. “It’s amazing what you can find if you just know where to look.”
I thought about it for a moment, then said, “Do you think it’s possible that Hans had something to do with his sister’s death?”
Markum tapped a few keys, then logged off. He said, “A good rule of thumb when somebody is murdered is to look around for motive. Everything else usually falls into place after you’ve determined the reason why; there’s got to be somebody out there looking to gain something, and I don’t just mean money. Hans Barnett is the obvious choice, but since he doesn’t appear to be anywhere around, we need to cast our nets a little farther.”
“I still don’t think Mrs. Jorgenson had anything to do with what happened.”
“And that’s based on what, your growing friendship with the woman? Harrison, that’s one of the things I admire about you, but just because you like someone doesn’t meant they’re incapable of some pretty terrible things.”
I hoped he wasn’t talking about himself, but I was learning not to press