Lucy reminds me rather constantly that nothing is private anymore. Maybe what I’m seeing with the Tailend Charlies of the world is simply the price of doing business these days. But I admit I hate it. At times I feel like Rip Van Winkle waking up to discover decades have passed. Only it feels more like a century. Life used to be more civilized than it’s become, that’s for sure.

“And it’s likely her work visa was up or a problem of one sort or another,” Lucy adds as if she’s had access to a dossier, “which explains why she’s no longer in London.”

“The woman I met earlier today definitely sounded British, not Canadian,” I reply. “In fact, my first thought was that she might be from London.”

“Elisa Vandersteel was in London for the past two years but not from there.”

“And before that?”

“A student at Leicester University, and before that it was Toronto, where she was born.”

“And do we have any idea why she was in Cambridge?” I ask. “It would seem she has something to do with the repertory theater or the musical Waitress since that’s where I ran into her the first time.”

“She’s not a student here,” Lucy says as if it’s common knowledge. “Her name also doesn’t come up with the ART, the Loeb Center, Waitress, or anything related or even similar. Maybe she was a volunteer or something. It will be easy enough to find out.”

“I’m wondering if she might have been living with someone here the same way she was in London.” I tell her about the young man she kissed in front of the Faculty Club.

“That’s my guess. She’s staying with someone, explaining why I’m not finding anything to indicate she has an address in the greater Boston area. There’s nothing listed in her name. No rentals. Nothing owned. Not even a hotel room or sublet that I’m seeing so far,” Lucy says, and I feel Marino’s curious stare.

“We got an ID?” he asks, and I indicate it’s looking that way.

The UK driver’s license found on the fitness path is genuine. The dead woman is twenty-three-year-old Elisa Vandersteel, a college graduate, a former au pair. But we won’t release her name publicly until we’ve gotten a confirmation with DNA or dental charts and have notified her next of kin. For now Marino and I will assume this is who we’re dealing with, and I feel stunned all over again.