Both Linda and Kellogg looked blank. Dance, of course, knew what she was talking about. (And was thankful that the woman wasn’t in the mood to deliver another lecture, like yesterday.)

“Jump in with whatever you want. If you have an idea that sounds bizarre, go ahead and tell us. We’ll take whatever we can get.”

“I’m game,” Linda said.

Rebecca offered, “Shoot.”

Dance asked about the structure of life in the Family.

“It was sort of a commune,” Rebecca said, “which was weird for me, growing up in capitalistic, sitcom suburbia, you know.”

As they described it, the arrangement was a little different, though, from what a communist cadre might expect. The rule seemed to be: From each according to what Daniel Pell demanded of them; to each according to what Daniel Pell decided.

Still, the Family worked pretty well, at least on a practical level. Linda had made sure the household ran smoothly and the others contributed. They ate well and kept the bungalow clean and in good repair. Both Samantha and Jimmy Newberg were talented with tools and home improvement. For obvious reasons—stolen property stored in a bedroom—Pell didn’t want the owner to paint or fix broken appliances, so they had to be completely self-sufficient.

Linda said, “That was one of Daniel’s philosophies of life. ‘Self-Reliance’—the essay by Ralph Waldo Emerson. I read it out loud a dozen times. He loved to hear it.”

Rebecca was smiling. “Remember reading at night?”

Linda explained that Pell believed in books. “He loved them. He made a ceremony out of throwing out the TV. Almost every night I’d read something aloud, with everyone else gathered in a circle on the floor. Those were nice nights.”

“Were there any neighbors or other friends in Seaside he had a particular connection with?”

“We didn’t have friends,” Rebecca said. “Pell wasn’t like that.”

“But some people he’d met would come by, stay for a while, then leave. He was always picking up people.”

“Losers like us.”

Linda stiffened slightly. Then said, “Well, I’d say people down on their luck. Daniel was generous. Gave them food, money sometimes.”

You give a hungry man food, he’ll do what you want, Dance reflected, recalling Kellogg’s profile of a cult leader and his subjects.

They continued reminiscing but the conversation didn’t trigger any recollections of who the houseguests might’ve been. Dance moved on.

“There are some things he searched for online recently. I was wondering if they mean anything to you. One was ‘Nimue.’ I was thinking it might be a name. A nickname or computer screen name maybe.”

“No. I’ve never heard of it. What does it mean?”

“It’s a character out of the King Arthur legend.”

Rebecca looked at the younger woman. “Hey, did you read us any of those stories?”