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“Just reviewing the facts. Greg simply took off. Ran away. Disappeared. He sent you an email.”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what the email said?”
“I can find it if you want, but it just said something about needing a change in his life, looking to start his next chapter. He said he wanted to travel alone and find himself.”
“Find himself,” Win repeated with a disgusted shake of the head. “God, I hope he didn’t use that wording.”
“He did,” Myron said. “Anyway, he started off in a monastery in Laos.”
“And we know that how?”
“He told me.” Myron considered that. “Why would he lie?”
Win didn’t answer. “When did you next hear from Greg?”
“I don’t know. I figured he needed to recharge the battery. That he’d be back pretty soon. But a week became a month then two months. He texted every once in a while. He said he was in Laos, then Thailand or Nepal, I don’t remember exactly. Then…”
“Two years pass, and we get word he’s dead.”
“Yes,” Myron said. Then: “What aren’t you telling me, Win?”
Win again ignored the question. “How hard would it have been to fake his own death? Let’s say you are Greg. You write your own obituary and put it in a newspaper. You say you died of a heart attack. You ship ashes—they can be burnt anything, really—in an urn. There’s a memorial service. We go to it.” Win held his palms to the sky. “Voilà, you’re dead.”
Myron frowned. “And then what, you sneak back into the country and murder Cecelia Callister and her son?”
Win stared out the window some more. That was when Myron saw it.
“Greg would have needed money,” Myron said.
Win still stared.
“All those years away. No matter how frugal he was being. He would need to access his bank accounts. Did you meet with him?”
More staring.
“Win?”
“We have a dilemma.”
“That being?”
“Client confidentiality.”
“You’re not an attorney.”
“My word should mean nothing then?” Win turned away from the window. “If a client requests confidentiality, I should still speak freely?”
“No,” Myron said, searching for a way around the impasse, “but in the specific case of Greg Downing, I am his agent, his manager, and his lawyer. Whatever he told you can be shared with me.”
“Unless,” Win said, holding up a finger, “the client told me not to tell anyone, including and specifically you.”
Myron took a step back. “Wow.”
“Indeed.”
“Are you saying you knew Greg was alive?”
