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dead-end search.
              “Didn’t I tell you?” Bob said.
              “Yeah, yeah, you told me. I promised the mother I’d look into it, didn’t say I would make it a national case. I’ll call her. She’ll probably complain that I gave it a peek instead of a good look.”
              “Did you check with NICB?”
              “No. You think I should?”
              “A thorough investigation of a baseless claim wouldn’t be complete without it.”
              After lunch, Tasha called the National Insurance Crime Bureau and listened to three voice recordings before finally speaking to a Tim Boxer, who wrote the info down and said he would be in touch.
              Later that evening, Mrs. Davis called again. “What you come up with?”
              “Mrs. Davis, unlike CSI , real-life investigations take longer, much longer.”
              “Is it an official investigation now?”
              “No, I didn’t say that. To be honest, Mrs. Davis, I haven’t discovered anything convincing me to keep looking. I’m sorry.”
              “Did you talk to Perry?”
              Tasha lighted a cigarette, inhaled deeply and blew smoke into the receiver. Amazingly, Mrs. Davis started coughing.
              “Mrs. Davis, you do remember our agreement?”
              “Yeah,” she said glumly and hung up the phone.
              A few minutes later the phone rang again.
              “Bob, cover for me. If it’s Mrs. Davis, I’m gone home.”
              Bob picked up the phone, said hello and immediately handed it to Tasha. “Your friend.”
              “What did I just tell you! Craps!” Politely: “Hello, Detective Montgomery, how may I help you?”
              “Yes, I’m Richard Hollis. NICB. You called earlier inquiring of a Mrs. Perry Davis.”
              “Yes, I did.”
              “Detective Montgomery, the social security number you gave us is listed to a Perry Perkins. You said Perry Davis. Is that the same person?”
              “If the social matches, I would think so.”
              “May I inquire to the nature of your interest in Mrs. Perkins?”
              “Routine check.”
              “Routine check? Could you be a little more specific?”
              “A lady called and expressed concerns regarding Perry Davis. I ran her name through a few databases to see if anything would pop up.”
              “I see, so this is not an official investigation?”
              “Mr. Hollis, I would love to sit here and talk shop with you, but I get off in a few minutes. We can continue this conversation some other time.”
              “No, wait. I apologize. I like to know whom I’m dealing with. If you would wait a few minutes I’ll be right over. You may be interested in what I have to say.”
              Tasha glanced at her watch. “I thought you guys were in Illinois.”
              “Our headquarters is there. I’m located right here in Little Rock.”
              “Something interesting, huh? Okay, I’ll wait.”
              Twenty minutes later, agent Richard Hollis, a rail-thin, freckled-face man, appeared in front of her desk.
              “Richard Hollis,” he greeted, extending a hand.
              Tasha shook it, and to her chagrin discovered it wet.
              “I’m sorry,” he said. “No paper towels in the bathroom.”
              Great, Tasha thought. “No problem,” bathing her hands with Germ-X and rubbing it off with a Kleenex. “What’s all the excitement concerning Perry Davis?”
              Richard Hollis frowned. “You keep referring to her as Perry Davis. Is that her current name?”
              “According to our records it is. Are