“Correct, and do you think this is Novak, on the other side of McKenna?” Julia took a second look at maybe-Novak, who was much younger than the others, possibly in his teens. He was good-looking, with brown eyes, brown hair, and a nice smile that seemed oddly familiar. “This young guy must be Novak, right? We don’t know the date of the photo, but from the waivers we know there was one time when the three of them did an event together, and it’s the March event, which is the one we care about. So it’s a fair assumption this teenager is Novak, do you agree?”
“Agree.”
“And we know from the waivers that they lived together at the time, or stayed together, at McKenna’s house.” Julia flipped the photo, hoping for a notation or identification, but there wasn’t one. “Damn.”
“Most likely it’s Novak.”
“Let’s go with that assumption, then.”
“We’re getting somewhere.” Paul smiled. “We’ll tell Bennie when we get back.”
“I know, right?” Julia took a second look at Novak, and something tingled at the edges of her memory. Suddenly she realized, with a startled shock, that she recognized him. “Oh my God, IknowNovak!”
“What? How? Who is he?”
“I met him at college, in the library with Courtney. He told us his name was Matt Winger, and Courtney gave him a fake number for me.” Julia felt her words rush out as the memory came back, astonishing her. “Then I saw him at a party, and it turned out that he assaulted a redhead at the same party. If not for Courtney, it could’ve been me that night.”
Paul’s lips parted. “Wait, I know that story. Courtney told me. You guys had a fight over it.”
“Right, she warned me off, and I was so mad at her, but she was right. She knew he was a creep, but I couldn’t see it. I gave a statement to the campus police and South Bend detectives. I don’t know if they ever arrested him.”
“So is Pat Novak his real name, or Matt Winger?”
“Matt Winger’s an alias, that’s all I know.”
“Do you think he’s here on purpose, for some reason? Like he traced you or Courtney here? Or is it just a coincidence?”
“I think it’s a coincidence, but it’s not that crazy.” Julia’s thoughts raced, and details came back to her. “He told me he’s from Philly and he mentioned an Eagles shirt I had on. He had a history of violence, so I’m not completely surprised he’d hang with thugs like Shoemaker, and McKenna.” Julia was beginning to formulate a theory, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, just yet. “Something about the fact that I know Novak, or whatever his real name is, makes me thinkthat he matters, like it has to do with my gift. Maybe this is the reason I had to come here. Maybe it wasn’t only about Courtney, maybe it was about Novak, too.” Julia found herself closing her eyes, trying to remember her vision of Kay’s fight for her life. “When I saw Kay’s killer in my vision at the funeral home, I didn’t see his face or any of his features, only shards of black and white. Courtney said that I had a blind spot for Novak, and I still have that blind spot.” Julia felt her own words resonate as she heard herself saying them. “What if I’m here for a reason, and the reason is staring me in the face? What if Novak killed Grandma Kay?”
“Whoa.” Paul’s eyes flared, and Julia gathered her thoughts, which were all over the place.
“But I still have questions. Where does Novak fit in, if the cops are in a conspiracy with McKenna and Chief Glushenko? Maybe the murder of Shoemaker is okay with Glushenko and McKenna, but what about Novak? If he lived at the same address, where was he the night that Shoemaker was killed? Did he help kill Shoemaker, then disappear like McKenna?”
Paul shook his head, mystified. “I don’t know, but this is good stuff. We’ll learn something if we keep going, but even if we don’t, we can give it to Bennie for her investigator.”
“Right.” Julia dived back in, going through the rest of the photos a few years back, but none showed Shoemaker or Novak. There were more of McKenna, but they told her nothing new. “I have a working theory that McKenna was permanently here, maybe Shoemaker off and on, and I get the sense that Novak was kind of a Johnny-come-lately. He’s so much younger than them. He’s a teenager, and they’re like in their forties.”
“That makes sense.” Paul checked his watch. “I think we’re done, don’t you? I think we’ve gone through everything.”
“Yes. Let’s clean up and go.” Julia got out her phone and took a picture of the 1999 officers list, the waiver forms for McKenna, Shoemaker, and Novak, and the photo of the three of them, just in case. They picked up the photographs, straightened the folders, and returned them to the drawer, then went downstairs, where only two women were left in the sewing circle, Kimberly and Mean Jean.
Kimberly looked up with a smile, her face illuminated from below by the harsh magnifying light. “Have any luck?”
“Yes, we found a nice photo of Bill McKenna.” Julia didn’t elaborate because Jean was eyeing her, hard.
Paul knocked over a group of muskets leaning in the corner at the bottom of the stairway, and they fell to the hardwood floor with a loud clatter. “Oh no. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll help.” Julia started picking up the muskets, surprised at their heft. “These things are heavy.”
“Sure are.” Paul picked up an armful of muskets and set them back in the corner. “They’re not real, are they?”
“They’re replicas. They fire blanks.” Kimberly set aside her sewing and rose, and Julia picked up the last musket and noticed it was much lighter than the others, then took a second look. The last musket was made of plastic painted to look like wood and metal.
Holy shit.“What’s this one musket, Kimberly? Is it fake?”
“Yes, our budget lately doesn’t always allow real guns. Some are plastic. I think they look real enough, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Julia felt Jean’s eyes on her, so she kept her tone light. “Where did they buy it? Or did they make it?”