“He seems to have some connection to the Mob and the identity thefts. And supposedly, he knew Tom Garvey. He was supposed to have given him the disc.”
“Tom didn’t say anything about that. He said he had the disc, but that’s all.”
I pulled the photo Duvall gave me from my purse and unfolded it on the table. “This is a picture of Gregory Knudsen,” I said, pointing to it. “Have you ever seen him?”
Melanie scrutinized the photo. “Huh.”
“What is it?”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
“Oh, my God.” Her voice was faint.
“Do you know him?”
“He’s younger and the hair is different, but that’s his face.” She pushed the paper toward me. “That’s Tom.”
Chapter TWENTY-SIX
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“Are you sure?” I said.
“I’m positive.” Melanie looked like she’d seen a ghost.
I realized then I’d never met Tom Garvey. He hadn’t shown up in court for the protective order hearing. I had no reason to recognize him.
“If the cops are still looking for Knudsen, they must not know he’s dead,” I said.
“But if he assumed another name, wouldn’t they find out?” Melanie asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “If all his identification were in the name Tom Garvey, and Bruce identified him, why would they question it?”
“What about relatives? Wouldn’t they need to notify someone?”
“Duvall said he had no next of kin.”
Melanie shook her head. “I don’t believe this.”
“I better let Derry know,” I said, digging for my cell.
I called Derry, Ray, and Reed Duvall. No one answered, so I left messages.
Ferrengetti also had to know that Knudsen and Garvey were the same. When she spoke to Schaeffer at the gym, she’d acted upset that Garvey was dead. Why would she be upset that the man who got her pregnant and left her was dead? Maybe she still loved him—or maybe something else was going on. Something that involved money. And Schaeffer.
You can change your name, I thought, but you can’t change your past. No matter how far you run, it always seems to catch up with you. Something had caught up with Gregory Knudsen, a.k.a. Tom Garvey. Maybe understanding that was the key to finding his killer.
f f f
I slept in the next day and felt a lot better for it. It was going to take time for me to recover from my all-night escapade at Aces High, but I felt like I was three-quarters of the way there. I was supposed to relax, but I hadn’t had a relaxed moment since leaving the hospital. I couldn’t believe it had been less than a week.
After breakfast, I looked over the notes from my various interviews. Rhonda had mentioned the books were weird. Could it have been for reasons other than Bruce’s bad bookkeeping? Assuming Ash was more involved with his businesses than everyone thought, he’d been lying to me. But why then would he put his own name on those bank accounts?
I could press Rhonda for more details about Ash. It was too early for the club to be open, so I went online and found a listing for R. Jacobi. She lived in Laurel, not far from Bruce Schaeffer.
I dialed the number and got a machine. Rhonda’s gravelly voice came over the line.
“Hi. I can’t get to the phone right now ...”