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  McAdams smiled. “People call me lots of things. Most of the names aren’t fit for polite company.”

  “Helpful guy.” Decker started up the motor.

  McAdams shuffled through the pages. “Big file. My nighttime reading. Where are we going?”

  “Let me give Rina a call.”

  “Do you want me to drive while you talk?”

  “No, just hang on a sec. It’ll be a quick conversation. Do you mind staying overnight?”

  “I’ve got my toothbrush and jammies in Nina’s co-op. What’s the plan?”

  “Interviewing in the city tomorrow. I’d like to get it done as long as we’re here.” Sammy picked up the phone. “Hey, son.”

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “Fine. You sound tired.”

  “Not too bad. At least I’m not working as late as you are. Are you picking up Eema, now?”

  “Actually I’d like to stay the night if that’s possible.”

  “Of course it’s possible. It’s great. Eema will be happy. I’ll pull out the couch. I’ve got an extra air mattress, too. You should be okay although your feet might stick out.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Is Eema there?”

  “Of course.”

  Rina got on the phone. “So we’re spending the night?”

  “Okay with you?”

  “Do I really have to answer that? Where’s Tyler staying?”

  “At his grandmother’s apartment in Manhattan.”

  “Nice place.”

  “It is. I might be there very late, Rina. I want to do some reading and it’s easier for us to spread out at the co-op.”

  “Why don’t you just spend the night there? A sofa mattress won’t do your back any good.”

  “My back is fine. Besides, I want to see Lily.”

  “Peter, it isn’t a social visit. You can see Lily when you come to pick me up tomorrow. Go get some rest. A sofa bed is fine for me. It’s even fine for you if I’m not there. It’s not good for the both of us.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “Positive. This is the rule: you can sleep wherever you want, just not with whomever you want. You stick to that and we’ll both be fine.”

  Chapter 8

  The next morning at nine, just as Decker got off his cell phone, McAdams walked into his step-grandmother Nina’s eat-in kitchen—a caterer’s space that held the most up-to-date appliances, rare wood cabinets, and countertops of concrete and stainless steel. Nina didn’t cook but there was a housekeeper who made morning coffee and had set out china, silverware, and linen napkins. The table had fresh-squeezed juice, iced water, toast, croissants, pastries, and jam and butter.

  “I see Esther has put out the spread.”

  “A lovely woman,” Decker said.

  “Nina only gets the best.” McAdams poured himself coffee and nabbed a piece of wheat toast from the basket. He took a nibble on the dry bread. “What’s up?”

  “That was Mike Radar. We’ve got a tentative match.”

  “Really?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Yeah, a little. We pull out this random set of bones from the ground. And by asking a few questions to the right people, we identify the remains. It just seemed like a long shot.”

  “It’s called being a detective.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with success. Poor Lawrence . . . Lorraine. Are we going back to Staten Island?”

  “We’ll tell Joanne Pettigrew today, but if Pettigrew was legally married, our first obligation is to the spouse.”

  “Who is usually the primary suspect.”

  “Yes. Keep that in mind.”

  “Are we sure they were legally married?”

  “I thought of that as well. I’ll check with records. Even if Pettigrew wasn’t legally married to Osterfeld, I’ll want to talk to her. See what she can tell me about the day Lawrence disappeared.”

  “Actually, Lawrence is the she and Osterfeld is the he.”

  “Yes. Right.”

  “Do we tell Osterfeld about the match?”

  “We only have a preliminary match. I’d hate to tell Osterfeld and be wrong. I’ll have to think about how I want to handle this. The most recent address I have is in Queens. Astoria. Not far from James Breck.” Decker sipped his coffee. “Ready when you are.”

  “Just let me wolf down some breakfast.”

  “Take your time.”

  “Thanks.” Tyler buttered his toast. “How many people on the list that Breck gave us?”

  “About forty.”

  “How many will we need to reinterview?”

  “We’ll prioritize. First the closest to Pettigrew and then we’ll fan out. Work with the usual questions, McAdams. Who has motive and opportunity? Who stands to gain by Pettigrew’s death?”

  “I’ll check insurance.” A pause. “If Pettigrew was reported missing, there wouldn’t be a payout right away. Don’t you have to wait like seven years?”

  “Yes. But there are other things to look at besides insurance payouts. For instance, did Pettigrew and Osterfeld have any joint accounts? Did they own any real estate? Were they in business together? Did they make investments that went south? Was either having an affair? Was there abuse?”

  “Got it.”

  “I hope we find a suspect. If not, it’s called a random killing and those stink. But it’ll be my problem, not yours. You’ll be back in law school.”

  “How likely is it that Pettigrew was a victim of a serial killer?”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “If the death was due to an altercation between friends or even a one-off hate crime because Lawrence was gay or transgender, do you bother to lug a body deep into the woods and bury it? Seems like the kind of thing that you might do if you’ve done it before.”

  “I see what you’re saying. But right now we only have one body. Let’s take it one measly step at a time. Otherwise, we’ll both trip and fall.”

  It took a while to locate Karl née Karen Osterfeld’s two-bedroom apartment. It was a few blocks past the Queensboro Bridge, on the seventh floor of a ten-story unadorned redbrick building. There was a small, slow, hot elevator that emptied them into a narrow, stuffy, but well-lit hallway. The unit was the last one on the right. Through the door, children could be heard running around.

  Decker knocked and a feminine voice asked who it was, and after they identified themselves as the police, the door swung open. The woman was petite with short dark hair, green eyes, and delicate features. Her hands were tiny and kneading each other as she read their police badges. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m looking for Karl Osterfeld?”

  “It’s Karen Osterfeld. She’s not here.”

  “Okay.” There were noises in the background. Decker said, “Do you have a contact number for her?”

  “And you want to talk to her because . . .”

  “Can we come in?” Decker asked. “It’s odd talking out here.”

  The woman hesitated, but then relented. Once they were in the apartment, she decided to be hospitable. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Water would be great.” McAdams said.

  “Times two.” Decker’s eyes followed a boy of around four and a toddler who wore nothing but a diaper as they ran constant circles around the couch. The boy didn’t stop moving, but the toddler finally did. The little thing had short, curly blond hair. She stuck fingers in her mouth. Decker bent down—as close to eye to eye as he could get—and decided the toddler was most definitely a little girl. “Hey there. Aren’t you very pretty?”

  She stared, then gave him a drool-laced smile.

  The woman came back in and Decker stood up. “What is she? Around eighteen months?”

  “Right on the money.” She handed him the water.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Birgitta. Say hello, Birgy.”

  The girl remained mute and rooted to her spot.

  The woman gave McAdams a glass. “And t
his handsome guy is Aesop. I’m Jordeen Crayton.” She looked at the kids. “Hey guys, let’s do some quiet time. I’ll put on a video.”

  “Power Rangers,” Aesop said.

  “How about Mickey Mouse?” Jordeen said.

  Birgitta smiled and said, “Moss . . .”

  “No, that’s stupid!” the boy protested.

  “Aesop, we don’t talk like that. Let’s go.”

  The two little kids disappeared with Jordeen, who returned five minutes later. “I have to get them a snack. Please.” She pointed to the sofa and the men sat. “I’ll be right back.”

  When she disappeared, McAdams whispered, “Karen to Karl to Karen?”

  Decker shrugged.

  McAdams said, “Maybe we’re working with a love triangle?”

  “It’s as good a theory as any.”

  Jordeen came back into the living room and sat down. “Why are you looking for Karen?”

  McAdams said, “We were told that she became Karl.”

  “She’s been Karen for over two years. Is this in regard to Lorraine Pettigrew? I mean, why else would you be here and asking for Karen as Karl. Did you find her? Lorraine?”

  “First, I’d like to ask you something, Jordeen,” Decker said. “Were Karen as Karl and Lorraine ever legally married?”

  “Not legally, no. They were going to get married, but then Lorraine disappeared. But if it concerns Lorraine, it concerns Karen, and if it concerns Karen, it concerns me. We are legally married.”

  “Okay. As a woman to a woman.”

  “Yes, of course. Do you think I’m transgender?”

  “No, ma’am,” Decker said. “We were wondering about Karen. I heard she was planning to undergo sex reassignment surgery.”

  “Well, she didn’t, and there you have it. Karen hasn’t been Karl for over two years.”

  “How’d you two meet?” McAdams asked.

  “Why does it matter?” She waited but no one said anything. “I was hired as a babysitter for Aesop. One thing led to another. We were married two years ago. It was love at first sight for me. It took a while for Karen. She was still mourning Lorraine.”

  Decker said, “Karen was Karl when you met her?”

  Jordeen was peeved. “What does it matter?”

  “I was wondering why she went back to being a woman if she was intent on marrying Lorraine as a man.”

  “You’d have to ask Karen.”

  “I will,” Decker said. “But I’d like your opinion. We’re all on the same side.”

  “Are we? You haven’t even told me what side you’re on.”

  “We all want to know what happened to Lorraine Pettigrew.”

  “You found her body, right?”

  “We found remains, yes, ma’am.”

  She sighed. “Oh God. I’ve been dreading this day. Karen will be devastated. She loved Lorraine.” Tears started falling. “Lorraine loved her. Aesop is his . . . hers . . . Lorraine’s. Whatever. Karen got pregnant from him. Both of them had started transitioning when they met, but neither had completed it where it counts. And then they fell in love and wanted a baby together before it was impossible. They both stopped taking the hormones, of course. Luckily the pregnancy happened quickly. After it did, Lorraine went back on her hormones, but Karen didn’t. She couldn’t. Not while she was pregnant.”

  “Of course.”

  Jordeen said, “No one would call Karen feminine. But I think after the baby, she became comfortable in her biological skin. And then I came along. Of course, I knew she was gay because I was referred from a nanny organization that deals with gay, lesbian, and transgender people.”

  McAdams looked confused. “I don’t mean to sound like an out-of-touch geek but there’s a specific organization for gay nannies?”

  “You don’t know how much prejudice gay people face when raising children, even in New York City. It was just business at first. We were all about Aesop’s well-being. But then we became emotionally close. Karen had confided in me that she was in the middle of transitioning. But then she decided she was more comfortable as a lesbian than as a man. Frankly, I didn’t care what gender she was. Birgitta is my biological daughter. One of each. We thought that was fair. Karen’s the primary breadwinner and I’m the primary caretaker.”

  “What does Karen do?” McAdams asked.

  “She’s in law school.” McAdams rolled his eyes and Jordeen caught it. “You have something against lawyers?”

  “Me and a trillion other people.” He smiled. “Relax. I’m also in law school.”

  “Oh. Do you go to night school?”

  “Yes,” McAdams lied.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Not really. But I don’t hate it.”

  “That sums up Karen’s opinion of the profession. She has to learn all these things she doesn’t care about. She wants to work as an advocate for children of LGBTQ people.”

  Decker said, “Do Pettigrew’s parents know they have a grandson?”

  Jordeen sighed. “Karen didn’t talk much about Joanne. After Lorraine disappeared, I believe Karen’s main goal was moving forward. I don’t know if she ever got around to telling her about Aesop.”

  McAdams said, “You don’t know if Karen told her?”

  “She hasn’t told her,” Jordeen admitted. “Karen wanted to hold off just in case Lorraine came back. And then time passed and then it became awkward, I guess.” Jordeen lowered her head. “I’ll talk to her . . . to Karen about it.”

  “We need to talk to her, Jordeen,” Decker said.

  “She won’t be home until seven.”

  “We can catch her at school,” Decker said. “I think she’d like to know about the latest developments.”

  “Of course she would. She goes to CUNY School of Law.”

  “Can I have her cell number so I can make arrangements to meet with her?”

  “It might be best if I phone her. If she sees it’s from me, she’ll be more likely to answer.”

  “Go ahead and call her, but please let me talk.”

  Jordeen punched in the numbers and gave Decker the phone. The conversation was two minutes during which Decker told Karen about the remains. Afterward, he said to Jordeen, “We’re meeting in a half hour. I think that’s about it for the moment. I know this must be overwhelming for both of you. Thanks for your help.”

  “Did I help you?”

  “You were honest and forthright so the answer is yes.”

  Jordeen gave them a small smile that didn’t last long. “About Aesop. Do you think the Pettigrews would want to know about him?”

  “As a grandparent, I would really want to know about the grandchild of my deceased son or daughter. It’s the moral thing to do, Jordeen.”

  “I agree.” Again tears moistened her eyes. “How can Karen advocate for children if we deny grandparents the right to see their grandchild?” She stood up. “I’ll walk you out.” She opened the door and paused. “I’m not trying to be selfish but I am concerned about Joanne Pettigrew causing trouble: saying that we’re not fit to raise our son and things like that.”

  “I can’t guarantee anything, Jordeen,” Decker said. “But when I spoke to her last night, I thought she was a very reasonable woman. I’m sure she’d work with you. Besides, I think whatever fight she had possessed left her a long time ago.”

  Chapter 9

  By the time they reached CUNY, it was almost noon and the day had become warm and humid. Decker was suffering in a suit and tie. Karen had asked to meet them at a nearby sandwich café that lacked air-conditioning and depended on a giant fan to make the inside tolerable. The place was overflowing with people. Besides a long line at the counter, all the tables were taken. Beyond ordering, there was very little conversation going on. The patrons, interchangeable in their shorts and T-shirts, were either reading or glued to electronic devices.

  McAdams looked around. “That person in the corner table is guarding those two empty chairs like they hold the secret of the ancients. She ha
s a short haircut, no makeup, and no jewelry except for a wedding ring. I think we’ve found our woman.”

  Decker loosened his tie. “Let’s go.”

  “Why do you dress like that when it’s boiling outside?”

  “Like what? You’re wearing a jacket.”

  “With a black T-shirt underneath. Not a long-sleeved shirt and a tie.”

  “This is my professional uniform. People talk to me easier if I’m in a suit. That’s what they see on TV and that’s what they’ve learned to expect. Shall we go? The woman at the table is eyeing me, probably because I’m old and dressed in a suit and tie.”

  “Yeah, you don’t exactly blend in.”

  “Astute of you to notice.” He walked up to the table. “Karen Osterfeld?”

  She nodded and the men sat down. Karen’s expression was somber: intense dark eyes capped by thick brows. There were wisps of facial hair over her lip, but her complexion was smooth. She was dressed in a white T-shirt and red board shorts showing considerable downy arm and leg hair. Her feet were shod in sandals.

  “I’m Detective Decker, and this is Detective McAdams. Thank you for speaking to us.”

  “You found remains.”

  Decker nodded gravely. “The bones have been tentatively identified as Lawrence or Lorraine Pettigrew.”

  “Call her whatever you want. I knew her as Lawrence as well as Lorraine. I’ve been expecting this day for a while. Where did you find the bones?”

  “They were off a hiking trail north of Greenbury.”

  “Which one?”

  “Bogat Trail.”

  “I don’t know it, and I knew most of the trails up there.”

  Decker said, “You went to Morse McKinley?”

  “Clarion. I was a year ahead of Lorraine in school. Back then we weren’t romantically involved. We met again down here—same circle of friends.”

  “Bogat was put in after you graduated,” Decker said. “Karen, was Lorraine a hiker?”

  “Not that I knew.” A beat. “I remember that once I asked him—he was him back then—if he wanted to go hiking with me. I remember it was an easy trail and it was a beautiful autumn day. He gave me a resolute no. I can’t imagine why he’d be in the woods voluntarily.”