The Night Killer

receipt.”
    “What else?” asked Diane.
    “In accordance with my client’s wishes, I haven’t used his or his daughter’s name, but I did tell a few people up there I was looking for a young male relative of mine and wondered if they had seen him. Several had met him, or had seen him and the girl on the motorcycle, and remembered him asking questions about several specific areas by name, and how to get to them.
    “I copied the same maps the boyfriend had at the university. I have some experience reading maps of that kind. I knew from the maps and what the locals had told me the area he was looking in. I found their campsite after a methodical search. I was looking for caves shown on the maps near the campsite and radiating out. I thought if I could find the right cave or abandoned mine they last visited, there might be some signs of them. But I had pretty much hit a wall.”
    “Did you find the motorcycle?” asked Diane.
    “No,” he said, “and that is troubling too.”
    Diane was wondering if Liam’s story was true. He sounded convincing—at least, his part in it sounded convincing. The treasure story itself sounded far-fetched. But sometimes young people believed far-fetched things . . . and did far- fetched things. There were a lot of treasure hunters in the world, young and old. For Andie’s sake, Diane wanted Liam to be telling the truth.
    “What are you going to do now?” asked Diane.
    “Ask you for your help,” he said. “First, can I look at the diaries?”
    “I’m arranging for speed-readers to go through them,” said Diane. “You have no idea the volume we are talking about.”
    “Do they know what to look for?” he said.
    “Now that I have more information to give them, they will. Up until now, I only knew to instruct them to look for anything that might lead to murder. Vague, I know, but that’s where we were until your story. I also know now that the information will probably be in his early diaries. Of course, he may have revisited the topic in later entries,” said Diane.
    Diane looked over at the picture of herself in the cave. She wondered if this really was why the Barres were killed—over lost treasure. Could the murderers have been Liam’s client’s daughter and her boyfriend? Or could they simply be lying low all this time, looking for treasure? It was not uncommon that free spirits didn’t do what their kin expected—especially when it involved calling home. Or perhaps they did become frustrated with not finding anything and, if they thought Roy Barre had lied to them, they were frustrated enough to kill him and Ozella.
    “Do you play poker?” Liam asked.
    Diane looked at him. “No, I don’t play poker. I’ve been told I have so many tells that I ought not bother,” she said.
    He smiled at her. He had a nice smile that made his sad, vulnerable eyes look friendly and good-humored.
    “Good advice. I don’t think my client’s daughter killed the Barres. It wouldn’t be in her nature,” he said.
    “What about her boyfriend?” said Diane. “You said she made bad choices in men. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had gotten gold fever and killed over it,” she said.
    “True, but . . .” He sighed. “That would make my life complicated.”
    Diane’s computer played a five-note melody that meant the information coming in was from David.
    “Excuse me, I need to look at this,” she said.
    She set her expression in what she hoped was an inscrutable mask. It occurred to her that she needed to Botox her whole face so she could keep her thoughts to herself.
    Her monitor was facing her, so she didn’t have to ask Liam to step into another room. She read the message. It was information David had acquired about Liam’s military service. David had put a small note on the end: It’s not mentioned anywhere on his Web site. At least we know how he can afford to travel all over.
    Diane closed out the message and looked at Liam. He was studying the Escher prints on the other wall.
    “So, will you help me?” he asked.
    “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “If your client’s daughter is guilty, I won’t protect her.”
    “Fair enough,” he said. “What chance do I have with Andie now?”
    “Are you married?” asked Diane.
    “Used to be. Military life is hard on a marriage. I’ve been divorced for several years. No children,” he added.
    “It’s up to Andie,” said Diane. “How good are you at groveling?”
    “I can grovel with the best