“Laura?”

Her head slowly swerved toward Graham’s voice. “Yes?”

“You okay?”

She ignored the question. “Somebody called him.”

“Seems that way,” Graham agreed. “Let’s try to put this little puzzle together and see what we come up with, okay?”

She nodded.

Graham began pacing in a tight circle. “First step: you go to your meeting at the Peterson Building in Cairns. David gets dressed and goes outside for a little swim and basketball. Step two: you call the hotel. David is still out. He has left you an amusing little note. Step three: David comes back to the hotel. He goes up to his room. He receives a phone call from an American who was staying in the area—”

“That rules out T.C.,” Laura interrupted. “There is no way he could have made that call locally and gotten back to Boston in time for my phone call.”

Graham pondered that for a while. “Seems logical to me. But that doesn’t really tell us much. Just because he didn’t place the call doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved in Mr. Baskin’s drowning. Now, where was I?”

“David received a phone call.”

“Right. David receives a local phone call from an American. Then he quickly writes you a rather cryptic note and leaves the hotel. We can probably assume that he went out to meet the caller. That takes us to step four: David went to the Pacific International Hotel in Cairns.”

“Maybe a taxi driver remembers taking him,” Laura said.

“A long shot, but I’ll check it out. Anyway, we have a witness who placed David at the hotel at about the right time, so let’s pick it up from there. Step five: David arrives at the hotel. He’s a little distracted, probably from something the mystery caller said to him. He goes upstairs for about an hour, presumably to meet the caller. When David comes down, he’s disoriented. Something happened upstairs that upset him.”

“But what?” Laura asked, speaking more to herself than to Graham.

“No idea,” the big man replied. “David then takes a walk around the block. He may have even gone into the Peterson Building, where you were having your meeting. Then he comes back to the hotel and places a couple of calls to the United States. Who did he call? I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t get through and decided to call later. He takes another walk around for a couple of hours. We have a witness who saw him standing by the beach at the Marlin Jetty at approximately eleven thirty at night. From here, we have a blank space. The next time anyone saw him, he was dead. Your banker friend, Corsel, claims to have heard from him at midnight. Could be. Or could be David was already dead by then and the caller disguised his voice.”

Laura fidgeted in her seat. “That no longer seems very likely, does it, Graham?”

Graham shook his head. “Possible, yes. Likely, no. I think David came back to the hotel and placed a call to the bank. Why? I don’t know. I think it had something to do with whomever he met in the Pacific International. Anyway, we’ll know where David placed his calls for sure once Gina finds those phone bills. Also, we’ll have to question the night porter and maybe the receptionist at the Peterson Building. They may also have seen David. This is just the beginning, Laura. A full investigation is not made in a single day.”

“So what’s next?”

Graham shrugged. “How long are you planning on staying?”

“I have to leave tomorrow night. There’s a ceremony being given in David’s memory in Boston on Saturday.”

“Okay, no worries. What we have to do next is fill in those important gaps. We have to find out whom David visited when he got to the Pacific International.”

“That’s the real key, isn’t it?” Laura asked. “The identity of the mystery caller?”

“Sure seems that way to me,” Graham agreed.

“And what about this coroner?”

Graham checked his watch. “Too late to call Dr. Bivelli now. We’ll reach him first thing in the morning.”

Laura swallowed and lowered her eyes. “Graham, what do you think happened to my husband?”

Graham placed a large hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know, luv, but we’ll find out.”

“NOW?” Mark asked.

T.C. glanced at the clock behind Mark’s head. “Now.”

With a sigh, T.C. stood and walked over to the telephone. He dialed thirteen numbers and waited for the call to connect.

Mark began to pace. “She’s never going to buy that Baskin drowned anymore.”

“I know,” T.C. said. “I’m working on it.”

After three rings the phone was picked up and an accented voice said, “Bivelli residence.”

“Can I speak to Dr. Bivelli, please?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“My name is Terry Conroy.”

“Hold on a moment, Mr. Conroy.”

A few seconds later, Dr. Bivelli picked up the phone. “T.C.?”

“Yeah, Aaron, how’s it going?”

“Not bad, mate. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Yeah, well, things have come up.”

“What sort of things?”

“I need another favor.”

“You know I don’t do favors,” Bivelli said. “Stu told you that before you ever contacted me.”

“I know, Aaron. You’re a true mercenary. But I’ve already paid you for this job.”

“You mean the Baskin drowning?”

“Bingo.”

“I thought everything went smooth as silk.”

“It did,” T.C. said. “But now we’ve run into a minor obstacle. I just wanted to let you know that some people may come around asking questions.”

“After all this time?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s just part of the job. No charge.”

“Just letting you know.”

“Appreciate it, T.C., but don’t worry.”

“Good.”

“But,” Bivelli added, “one of these days, I’d love to know the whole story.”

T.C. half smiled. Bivelli knew a little piece of what was going on. Stu another little piece. Hank still another. But none of them knew enough to put the whole story together. “One of these days,” T.C. repeated.

GRAHAM reached Dr. Bivelli the following morning and set up an appointment for later that same day. Since all the flights between Cairns and Townsville were sold out, Laura chartered a small plane to take them into Townsville. At noon, they arrived at Townsville Memorial Hospital. The office of Aaron Bivelli, M.E., was, of course, on the basement level next to the morgue.