A Case of Five

“So, the five? Good morning, by the way,” he smiled as she sat. “An interesting lot. They are all in their early 60s. Successful except for one who is elusive and hard to nail down.” “But all are alive and interesting?” “Yes and no. I can go through each one if you prefer.” He nodded. “For no logical reason I'm starting with Kevin Thorpe. He is the President of The Ninth Bank of America. Unlike the pomposity of the name, it is a small regional bank with five branches in Eastern Iowa and Western Illinois. The bank is well-regarded and in good standing. He’s been married twice, divorced twice, and has two kids now adults both living away. One in Salt Lake and the other in Bozeman. Some scandal around him. Not a proper Midwestern man, it seems. Of course, I'll reach into the dark web for more. Here is a picture of the guy.” She handed over a print of an official pose. “Wow. He looks like Basil Rathbone in the old Sherlock Holmes movies. Ever seen those, Judy?” “I have. The first thing I thought of when I saw the pic. All he needs is a pipe and a deer stalker hat,” she said with the stern smile that she had mastered. “The next one is Samantha Hartung. Comes from money. Roman Catholic to an extreme. Has an extensive presence on social media. Leftward in orientation with lots of critics. She still has money. She has been steadfast about her lifelong ambition to become a priest, or a Bishop, or even the Pope. She has advocated strongly for women's ordination. She has posted comments about men screwing up the Church with their sexual proclivities. She argues there were no similar complaints made about nuns. Very compelling if you're into that stuff. Pretty much that seems to be her life story. A kind of Quixote character. I'll bet Sebastian and she crossed swords in that class. Here's a picture of her. She's wearing a miter and holding a crozier. It's meant to be playful as she's wearing a sweatshirt and gym pants.” Tony laughed. The pink sweatshirt had PRIEST IN WAITING in large black lettering. She had a belligerent look about her, jaw clenched eyes fixed upwards. God help us, he thought. “Ready for number three?” “The more the merrier,” he said. “The third is named Winston Featherstone. I don't know how he got into Sebastian’s class as he was an accounting major. Reminds me of Fredo in the Godfather movies, a slinker.” “I didn't know you were such a movie buff.” “I am. As such it really helps me with names. I associate people I run across with movie stars. Marvelous way to remember names and faces. Here’s his picture now.” “Interesting.” “Throw that image at this kid and advance him in age. Do you see what I'm saying?” As she handed across a picture of the 60-plus year old. Tony instantly saw what she was saying. He seemed almost unchanged from then till now. The kid in the yearbook had a thin face, a wizened look for one so young. His eyes were cast downwards as if he was writing on the pages of a notebook. He had a sickly look, small and closed in. “What does he do now?” “He's the CFO of a corporation named A-Z Buildings. They’re into interior work in houses, especially bathrooms. Want a new shower? They'll do it. It’s a tightly held corporation. He's been with them after a reporting job in Springfield, Illinois. Married, no kids. Nothing adverse out there. No presence on social media.” “So far none of them presents as a killer. I assume you're keeping the worst for last?” Tony asked lightly. “Not really, well maybe the last one. Next, Rebecca Holmes. Quite interesting. She's very beautiful. Has a massive social media presence. Scads of photos. She was Miss Scott County in Iowa where Saint Anselm College is located. That's where Sebastian taught. She was a runner-up to Miss Iowa. She's all about looks and matters of appearance, clothes, jewelry, shoes, and so on. Easy to track her as she wants everyone to know about her career. When she graduated she headed out to Vegas. I infer that she was recruited to be a featured dancer out there.” She handed over to Tony pictures of her as a 20-year-old and now one of someone in their 60s trying to look like she was in her 30s. In Judy’s judgment, too many nips and tucks. “She is a marvel. Oh, to be young. Looks like she drinks from the fountain of youth,” Tony said after a measured look at the pictures. Judy was surprised with how taken in Tony was. Didn't he see the workmanship necessary to keep that aging ship at sea? “At any rate her career is straight as an arrow. Been a Vegas resident from graduation. No kids, been married four times, divorced four times, now living alone as far as I can see.” “These are interesting people. I wonder if they're all happy and content. Just never know. The human condition.” “Are you ready for number five?” “Yeah, sure.” “Paul Pennington. In the yearbook picture he is the one who looks like he was emulating Karl Marx. See that?” “How could I miss it? Sebastian must have had a field day with this kid. What's his story?” “He ran a socialist club at the school. That was when schools still allowed that type of thing and apparently looked the other way. A growing up process from what I can make out. Probably, there was a John Birch gang there too. But Pennington was the campus communist. I wonder how he went down with Sebastian. I sense fireworks. But who knows? Here is a current photo.” “Oh my, still has the beard!” Tony exclaimed. “What's he up to?”