X (Kinsey Millhone 24)

“Just tell me what it says.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “So impatient. Give me a minute and I’ll write it out for you.”

“You want some coffee?”

“Only if you’re making some,” he said, distracted. He was already busy writing down the letters he matched with the numbers on the grid.

I left him where he was and went down the hall to the kitchenette, where I picked up the coffeepot and filled it with water. I poured the water into the reservoir and then opened a packet of coffee, the grounds neatly sealed in a filter that I tucked into the basket. I flipped the switch and stood there until I could hear the gurgling begin.

Moments later, I placed both mugs of coffee on my desk and resumed my seat. Henry was still translating, so I waited for him to finish. “This is a list of names,” he said. “Six of them. I’ll start with the first. You see the numbers 1216, then 0804 and so forth. The 12 is the letter S, followed by 16, which is the letter H. Here, 08 is the letter I, followed by 04, which is the letter R. I won’t go through every single grouping. Trust me when I tell you the first name is Shirley Ann Kastle. The line under her name reads ‘Burning Oaks, California,’ with the state abbreviated.”

“Never heard of her.”

“Next is the number series starting with 1903 2509 and on down the line. This line spells the name Lenore Redfern, also from Burning Oaks, California, which is the line under the name. I believe hers was the name written in the Bible you found.”

“April’s mother,” I said. “It looks like she wanted April to have her Bible and the other items. I’m not sure why she mailed them to the priest, unless he was supposed to hold them and pass them on in due course. According to April’s wedding announcement, Ned’s now married to a woman named Celeste. Go on. I didn’t mean to slow you down.”

“The third name is Phyllis Joplin, Perdido, California, again the state abbreviated. Are you familiar with the name?”

“Nope.”

“Under her name, if you’ll look at my cheat sheet, you’ll see that 05 is T, the number 11 is A, 04 is R, 06 is Y . . .”

I checked the next number in the sequence. “And 25 is N, and the name is Taryn,” I said. I knew exactly who this was. “Surname is Sizemore.”

“That’s right. He’s written ‘Santa Teresa, California’ on the line beneath, so she must be local. You know her?”

“She was the plaintiff in the lawsuit I mentioned earlier.”

“Much of this seems to hark back to that lawsuit,” he said.

“Could be coincidental.”

“Possible. Fifth name on the list is Susan Telford, who apparently lives in Henderson, Nevada. Ring a bell?”

“Nada.”

Henry said, “Speaking Spanish now. Very nice.”

I pointed to the next sequence of numbers. “Who’s that?”

“Last name is Janet Macy in Tucson, Arizona.”

“Which doesn’t ring any bells.” I thought about the names for a moment. “I can’t imagine what the relationship is among these women.”

“It might help if you talked to someone in Burning Oaks. Father Xavier would be the obvious choice.”

“I’m not planning to do anything unless I figure out what Pete had in mind.”

“I’m not sure how you’ll arrive at that. I gather he didn’t confide in Ruthie, at least where this business is concerned,” he said. “Is that a copy machine?”

“It is.”

Henry picked up the single sheet of graph paper and the yellow pad, crossed to the machine, and pushed the power button. While he waited for the machine to warm up, he neatly tore off the top two sheets of lined yellow paper, and when the Ready light went on, he opened the cover, placed the first sheet facedown on the glass plate, and lowered the cover again. He pushed Print and we stared, transfixed, as a line of light moved down the page and a copy emerged from the innards of the machine. I didn’t have a clue how the process worked. He then copied the second sheet, and last he made a copy of the grid of numbers.

When he finished, he handed me the originals and folded the copies, putting them in the pockets of his shorts. Indicating the first sheet he’d given me, he said, “That’s the key, written down the left-hand margin; the QWERTY letters with a number value next to each. You come across any other eight-place grids, you should be able to translate. I’m not sure what you’ll do with the names, but I’ll leave you to ponder the possibilities.”