“Tell you what,” Duckworth said. “Why don’t you see if you can come up with an answer while I go across the street and talk to those folks? When I come back, we’ll see what you’ve thought up. And then we can also talk about what appears to be going on here.”

“What would that be?” Harvey asked.

“Charming an old lady out of her money and possessions,” Duckworth said. “Maybe you can work on that story, too.” He smiled. “Be back in a bit.”

He headed back across the street. As he started up the driveway to the Gaffney house, Constance Gaffney emerged, grim-faced, from a side door of the garage behind the house.

“Hello, Detective,” she said, trying to break into a welcoming smile.

He tipped his head. “Mrs. Gaffney.”

“Brian’s not here,” she said quickly. “My husband’s not here, either. Sorry. Do you want to come back later?”

“Where’s Brian?” he asked.

“He’s back in the hospital,” she said.

“Back?” Duckworth asked. “You mean he was discharged, but he was readmitted?”

She blinked. “Um, he left yesterday. Like, on his own. He just walked out. He shouldn’t have, but he did. And then he got hurt, so—”

“Brian got hurt?”

Constance Gaffney opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

“Mrs. Gaffney? You said Brian got hurt.”

“It was nothing. I just meant, his back hurts. You know, from all the needles or whatever went into it.”

“It sounded like you were going to say he got hurt when he left the hospital.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head furiously. “No, no. I meant he was hurting himself by leaving the hospital.”

Duckworth nodded slowly. He was thinking he didn’t need to have been a cop for as long as he had to spot when someone was lying. A patrolman his first day on the job could see that Constance Gaffney wasn’t telling the truth.

“I guess I’ll drop by the hospital, then,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

“Though I might as well ask you what I was going to ask him,” he added.

“I’m sure I won’t know,” Constance said.

“You might want to wait until I’ve asked the question.”

“Well, yes, okay. What is it?”

“You ever heard the name Cory Calder?”

“Cory who?”

“Calder.”

“Who’s that?”

“Do you recognize the name?”

She shook her head slowly. “No, I don’t. Should I?”

“Not necessarily,” he said.

“Who is he?”

“I’d really like to ask your husband if he’s heard of him.”

“Well, if I haven’t heard of him, I’m sure my husband hasn’t.”

That prompted a grin from Duckworth. “You’re sort of mentally connected, are you?”

She laughed nervously. “No, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t know who he is.”

“Mrs. Gaffney, are you okay?”

“Am I okay?”

Duckworth nodded.