While Anna was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, she called Robin.

"Mom?" her daughter asked, disoriented. "Is that you? Are you okay? Why are you calling so late?"

Anna picked up her watch from the bathroom vanity and cursed herself for not checking the time. It was after midnight. "Sorry darling," she said; "everything's fine. Your father and I just finished getting the apartment set up and I wanted to thank you for the things you sent over. But I wasn't thinking, didn't realize how late it was. Go back to sleep."

"It's all right, Mom. Is Dad there with you? You sound—odd. Are you sure you're okay?"

Anna nodded and smiled into the phone. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just wanted to thank you. And I wanted to tell you that I love you. I love you so much."

A pause. "I love you too, Mom. Now you go to sleep. And give Dad a kiss goodnight from me."

Robin hung up. Anna stood looking at herself in the mirror.

Duke was sitting alone at the almost-finished club. He was propped up at the bar, a bottle of scotch open in front of him, two fingers of it poured into a glass. He sipped and thought about what Anna had said, about the phone calls from Sonny, when they had come and when they hadn't. And he wondered.

Suddenly there was a loud knocking. Duke started. He waited, and it came again. He lowered himself from the bar stool, walked over, looked through the peephole, then cautiously opened the front door of the club.

"Duke Lavery?" the man at the door asked. "I'm Giordano. We finally meet."

Duke looked back, apprehensive. This meeting hadn't been arranged. And it was late; Duke was alone. He felt very vulnerable.

"Excuse the hour," Giordano said, brushing past Duke into the club. "I was out walking."

Duke spoke before thinking. "This isn't the best neighbourhood for a midnight stroll."

Giordano laughed. "I appreciate your concern, but I guarantee you I was the most dangerous person out there." He grinned. "I sleep very little, Mr. Lavery, and I'm a night owl. Most of our meetings will take place after midnight. And I don't care much for appointments. I'll simply drop in when it's convenient for me. Understood?"

Duke grimly nodded his head.

"I received your confirmation that our first shipment was delivered and has been safely hidden away. When do we get our next delivery?"

"In three days," Duke answered. "The truck should arrive in town Wednesday at 3:00 a.m. It will deliver to a warehouse I've leased nearer the docks."

"That's Sonny Corinthos' back yard, isn't it? Is that a wise decision?"

Duke smiled. "I wouldn't be too concerned about Mr. Corinthos. He's being hounded by the Port Charles Police Department for a shooting that took place in one of his warehouses and is currently preoccupied. On top of that, his power's been challenged recently by the return of an old family: the Jeromes. You've heard of them?"

Giordano smiled. "Of course. In the '80s when I was cutting my teeth in the Montreal mob they were challenging the five families in New York. I'm already aware of Julian and Ava Jerome's presence in Port Charles."

Duke nodded again.

"Now," Giordano brightened, "I'd like a tour of my investment. I'd like estimated completion dates for all the phases of the project and a list of all the companies working on the renovations. I have a few enemies, you understand," Giordano made an exaggeratedly pained face, "and I want to make sure we haven't been compromised in any way."

Duke swept his arm out and extended it toward his left. "Certainly, Mr. Giordano. Would you like to start in the kitchen?"

In the morning, while Anna was in the bathroom getting ready for the day, Robert had a sudden impulse. He picked up his phone and called Elizabeth Beaty. She didn't pick up; the call went to voice mail. "Elizabeth," Robert began, "this is Robert Scorpio. We talked about meeting up this afternoon. How about the Port Charles Hotel lounge at 3:00? Unless I hear from you, I'll be there waiting." Robert hung up.

Then he dialed a second number. Again, there was no answer. "Stephen. It's Robert Scorpio. I thought I'd contact you, give you an update on the investigation into Carolyn's disappearance. Are you free this afternoon? I'd like to meet face to face. If you can, come to the Port Charles Hotel lounge at about 3:30."

Robert wanted to observe how the two old friends reacted when they saw each other unexpectedly.

Ava and Julian were taking a stroll along the docks. The morning was lovely but brisk; Ava's scarf was wound tightly around her neck; Julian's hands were thrust deep into the pockets of his overcoat. They were looking out over the water.

"A reliable source informs me that Duke's next shipment will arrive early Wednesday morning. I have a location and a route. We need to decide what to do with this information."

Ava didn't respond immediately and then said, "I have a bad feeling about this, Julian. Something doesn't seem right."

Julian looked smug. "I think lack of experience is making you anxious. In our business, you can't be timid. I say we strike, and we strike hard, send Corinthos a clear message that we're on to him."

Ava said nothing. There was no point; as usual, Julian would make all the decisions and she would go along with them. "Who do we bring in?" she asked. "How do we make the score? And what do we do with all the stuff?"

The Jeromes started to make careful plans.

Mei Wu's assistant, incredulous, stood staring at the young woman behind the counter. "Both penthouse suites are occupied?" he asked. "But we were under the impression that one of the two would be reserved for Ms. Wu." He consulted with his boss in Cantonese. The assistant then turned back to the woman behind the hotel desk. "Please inform Mr. Giordano that Ms. Wu will be staying at the Port Charles Hotel. She will be in contact with him shortly. " And they left.

The assistant briefly wondered how he would be punished for inconveniencing his boss. He pushed this disturbing worry from his mind as he held open the door to the limousine and she gracefully folded herself inside.

Robert nervously flicked the pen he was holding through his fingers, a skill he'd perfected over the years killing time on long stakeouts. The pen flipped over and back from his index through to his pinkie finger, smoothly, effortlessly whirling around each digit. Elizabeth was late. He hoped she was still coming. A phone call from Robin a few hours earlier had worried him, because Robin had told him she was worried about her mother. Anna had seemed quiet and distant that morning. Robert hadn't liked leaving her. But she'd told him she planned to spend the afternoon in the station. Robert hoped work would be an effective distraction from whatever it was that was bothering her.

And then Elizabeth walked in. The pen in Robert's hand stopped mid-flip. Her hair had been cut, Robert noted; it was shoulder length now, shaped in a stylish bob. He hadn't noticed the change the day before, when her hair had been pulled back from her face. Under her coat she was dressed in a dark blazer and grey trousers, again of the very highest quality. Robert noticed a few male heads turn as she walked toward him. There was no denying Elizabeth Beaty was a stunning woman.

"Robert," she held out her hand. They shook, and Robert briefly wondered if she'd offered her hand expecting he would kiss it. "So nice to see you again. I'm sorry I'm late. I underestimated how long it would take to walk here from the Metro Court." Elizabeth sat down; Robert did the same. She smiled at him. "We might as well cut to the chase. Can you tell me anything about my missing money and ex-husband?"

Robert quickly summarized the forensic accountant's report. As he spoke, he noticed that Elizabeth barely reacted to the information. She simply smiled and stared at him. When he was finished, he paused for a moment and then asked, "Do you have any idea why Alan would have gone to such lengths to make the money he took difficult to trace? Why would he bother?"

Elizabeth continued to smile. "I suspect he was worried about me, about my reaction. He likely thought I'd be angry and vindictive. To give the man his due, I probably would have been. I certainly wouldn't have let him leave with all that money."

Robert nodded, thoughtful. "Do you have any idea where he might have learned what to do with the money—where to send it, how to recover it? Our forensic accountant was able to trace it, but only now, years later, and largely because of certain international agreements and laws that didn't exist before and make banking information more accessible to law enforcement. Alan was an engineer, not a racketeer. And another thing puzzles me: he was trying to hide, no offence intended, a relatively small amount of money. The companies he dealt with usually don't lift a finger for less than a quarter million. Alan was transferring what amounts to petty cash."

Elizabeth looked up at the corner of the room above Robert's head and then back to meet his gaze. It was the first time she'd looked away from him since he'd begun to speak. "I'm sure I have no idea about any of it. Obviously there was a lot about Alan I didn't know."

Robert continued. "How about the locations where the money was taken out in cash: the Seychelles, Cyprus, and Latvia. Do any of these places seem significant to you in any way? Would any seem a convenient pick-up point for Alan?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, Robert, I can't offer you any clarification. Alan suddenly seems a much more interesting person than the one I married. I wish I'd known this man. The Alan I knew was dull, predictable, conventionally moral. Personally, I like someone a bit more complex. A man of mystery. Someone who's learned through hard experience that the world's not black and white, a man who lives in shades of grey." She paused, looked down, and looked back up at him through long, dark lashes. She spoke huskily. "I have a confession to make. While you were so helpfully looking into the whereabouts of my ex-husband, I was carrying out my own investigation—into you. And what I found intrigued me."

"Elizabeth? What are you doing here? Why didn't you call me and tell me you were in town?" Neither Robert nor Elizabeth had noticed Stephen enter the lounge or walk over to their table.

Robert stood, held out his hand. "Stephen. I'm so glad you could join us. Ms. Beaty's been helping me with the investigation."

"Stephen." Elizabeth didn't stand. Her smile looked strained. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I've been so busy. And I didn't think you'd want to see me, given the circumstances. I expected you'd be upset, with the investigation being re-opened. I thought I'd give you your space."

"Did you come back to town just to help with Carolyn's disappearance? Whenever I've invited you to visit, you've turned me down. You told me you'd never come back to Port Charles."

Robert replied for her, "Ms. Beaty's in town coincidentally, on business."

Stephen looked confused. Elizabeth stood. "Stephen," she spoke quickly, "I hate to say hello and goodbye, but I have to run—I have another appointment. I promise I can explain everything. Call me, okay? Call me this later this afternoon. Maybe we can have dinner. Let me fill you in on what's been happening." She picked up her bag and coat. "Thank you for the report, Robert. I look forward to seeing you again soon." She turned and left.

Robert tried to catch Stephen off-guard, tried to ask his questions before the other man could think better of replying honestly. "A moment ago when I told you that Elizabeth was in Port Charles on business, you seemed surprised," he told Stephen. "Am I right? Do you mind me asking what that was about?"

Stephen seemed almost disoriented. "I just wasn't aware Elizabeth was working for anyone. She's never had a job before. I was surprised."

Robert gestured for Stephen to sit down. "What do you mean, she's never had a job?"

Stephen sat down, began removing his scarf, unbuttoning his coat. "She's never needed to work. Her father's rich. Surely you've noticed she has money. She's a woman of leisure. I can't believe she's actually employed."

"You've known her since high school, right? How did you meet?"

"Not in school. It sounds cliché – I worked at the country club cutting lawns; she sat by the pool. One day she spoke to me, I think to make her mother angry. We became friends. After high school we went off to different ivy league universities. I was on full scholarship; she paid full tuition. I studied law; she studied English literature. She got a masters degree but decided a PhD was too much work. She quit and moved to New York. I have no idea what she does with her time, but she seems to fill it."

Robert considered this new information. "Do you know who her parents are, what they do, where their money comes from?"

Stephen shook his head. "I learned not to ask. It's a sensitive subject. There were malicious whispers."

"Mob?" Robert asked, afraid of the answer.

"No, worse. It was rumoured her father was in munitions, was some kind of arms manufacturer. All above-board, you understand, government contracts, that kind of thing, but still disturbing. I never met the guy. He wasn't often home, thank god, and he never showed any interest in meeting Elizabeth's friends."

Robert suddenly felt very worried about Elizabeth's research into his past.

Twenty minutes later, he'd finished filling Stephen in on the investigation. When Robert told him about Alan's disappearance, Stephen looked nonplussed. "I knew about that," he told Robert. "Trust me, it has nothing to do with Carolyn. The two events are not connected. You're wasting your time following a false lead."

Robert noted the tension in Stephen's shoulders, the strain behind his eyes.

"I've refined my earlier theory" Robert told Anna as he paced in front of her desk. She sat in her chair, amused, watching him stride back and forth excitedly. "First possibility: Alan disappeared six months after Carolyn, when he left to join her before the birth of the baby. They couldn't leave together because it would rouse Stephen's suspicions, and they were worried about what he'd do. Stephen was violent. Carolyn left first; then Alan laundered his money through a Belizean bank. He and Carolyn travelled together to the Seychelles, then to Cyprus, then to Latvia. Alan had to ensure the money couldn't be traced by Elizabeth because he was worried about being found by Stephen."

Anna frowned. "Okay, but this doesn't account for the small amount of money transferred: what made that possible? Why was such a small account set up for a shell company?"

Robert stopped pacing, turned to face Anna, and smiled. "Possibility two, and this is the one I really favour: the money was transferred not by Alan but on Alan's behalf."

Anna leaned back in her chair. "On his behalf? By whom? And for what reason?"

"By Elizabeth." Robert grinned. He started to move again. "First bit of evidence: she didn't react to anything I said, suggesting she already knew what I was going to tell her. Second bit of evidence: her father is filthy rich, suggesting that she (or her father) had the ability and knowledge to hide money, the connections that would allow them to do so, and the loyalty of certain trusted companies who would condescend to transfer Alan's (to them) pathetic stash of money."

Anna crossed her arms. "Why would Elizabeth and/or her father help finance Alan's escape to meet and live with his pregnant mistress?"

Robert stopped again and stood in front of Anna's desk; he leaned over, supporting himself with his hands as he looked her directly in the eye. "To get rid of him. Elizabeth found him boring. She didn't want his child. And he was an embarrassment to the wealthy pater. There are tons of potential reasons."

"I don't know, Robert," Anna looked skeptical. "It seems unnecessarily complicated. Let's review: Carolyn was pretending to try to get pregnant by her husband but was really trying to get pregnant by her lover. She fled to avoid her violent spouse, was helped to flee by her lover's wife, who saw the opportunity to be rid of a boring husband. Carolyn flew from the Seychelles to Cyprus to Latvia when she was heavily pregnant. And Alan and Carolyn are now living happily somewhere in Latvia with their love child."

Robert's smile fell. "Well," he admitted, "when you put it that way, it sounds less plausible." He straightened, stepped back, sat down in a chair, looked slightly dejected.

Anna sighed. "Full points for creativity. But I suspect the answer, though it still might be strange, is much simpler. We have two missing persons. We have only Elizabeth's word that Alan left her. She might even believe this, but it doesn't make it true. I think it's very likely that Carolyn and Alan are dead. We have no bodies, but neither do we have clear evidence that they're still alive. The real question is, if they are dead, were their deaths related?"

"And who would want them both dead? Were they having an affair? Did Stephen learn about it?"

"Why were they killed six months apart?"

Robert thought. "Maybe Stephen knew Carolyn was cheating on him but didn't know with whom. He killed her first, and when he eventually found out about Alan he finished the job."

"Okay. Any other possibilities?"

"Elizabeth killed Carolyn and Alan for the same reason in reverse: Alan was cheating on her with Carolyn."

"Again, why kill them six months apart? And why kill Carolyn first?"

Robert thought again. "I don't know. New theory: maybe she found out Carolyn was cheating on Stephen and she decided to punish her for that? Then later she found out Carolyn had slept with her own husband?"

Anna shook her head. "Weak. I don't buy it."

Robert looked hopeful. "Maybe the arms-dealer father comes into it somehow?"

Anna pursed her lips. "I can't imagine how you'll bring him into the mix. This should be good. Fire away."

Robert thought, tried to come up with something, threw up his hands in defeat. "I've got nothing."

Anna leaned her elbows on the desk. "We have learned something extremely important: you can't trust Elizabeth Beaty. You've caught her in what seems to be an obvious lie. She isn't in Port Charles on business, which suggests she came to town primarily because we've reopened the investigation into Carolyn's disappearance."

Robert rolled his chair up to the desk and bent forward toward Anna. "I'm afraid I neglected to mention one other thing, something that's left me slightly unsettled. Elizabeth hinted that she's been investigating me. I'm more than a bit concerned about what she might have learned."

Anna frowned.

A puzzled look came over Robert's face. "And for some reason I want to mention to you that she's had her hair cut. Something about her appearance has been nagging at me since I first saw her today. I don't know: Elizabeth Beaty seemed strangely familiar, though I can't for the life of me figure out why."

Anna's expression became cautious, neutral. "Does she remind you of Katherine?"

Robert shook his head. "That's what I thought at first. Two beautiful blondes, tall, both impeccably turned-out. There are logical points of comparison. But that's not it."

"Thank god," Anna muttered.

Robert took her hand. He said, "I suspect I'm having trouble figuring out who she reminds me of because I'm currently preoccupied by thoughts of someone else." But Anna wasn't listening to him anymore. She was staring off into the corner of the room. Robert squeezed her hand. "Anna?"

Anna's attention jolted back. "What, Robert? Sorry. What did you say?"

Robert grabbed her other hand and leaned in still further. "I hope I didn't upset you yesterday. It was just my stupid pride; I wondered why you didn't have any pictures of us, of me. I didn't want to remind you of anything unpleasant."

Anna forced herself to smile. "I know that."

"You can do whatever you want with the past—keep it in a box if you need to. All I really want from you is the present and the future."

Anna looked at Robert intently. "Sometimes you know just the right thing to say, Scorpio," she told him. "You could make a fortune writing greeting cards."

Robert grinned.