Same difference, p.1
Same Difference, page 1
Contents
Cover
Also by E.J. Copperman
Title Page
Copyright
Praise for the Fran & Ken Stein mystery novels
About the author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Also by E.J. Copperman
Fran and Ken Stein mysteries
UKULELE OF DEATH *
Jersey Girl Legal mysteries
INHERIT THE SHOES *
JUDGMENT AT SANTA MONICA *
WITNESS FOR THE PERSECUTION *
AND JUSTICE FOR MALL *
MY COUSIN SKINNY *
Haunted Guesthouse mysteries
NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED
AN UNINVITED GHOST
OLD HAUNTS
CHANCE OF A GHOST
THE THRILL OF THE HAUNT
INSPECTOR SPECTER
GHOST IN THE WIND
SPOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL
THE HOSTESS WITH THE GHOSTESS
BONES BEHIND THE WHEEL
Asperger’s mysteries (with Jeff Cohen)
THE QUESTION OF THE MISSING HEAD
THE QUESTION OF THE UNFAMILIAR HUSBAND
THE QUESTION OF THE FELONIOUS FRIEND
THE QUESTION OF THE ABSENTEE FATHER
THE QUESTION OF THE DEAD MISTRESS
Mysterious Detective mysteries
WRITTEN OFF
EDITED OUT
Agent to the Paws mysteries
DOG DISH OF DOOM
BIRD, BATH, AND BEYOND
* available from Severn House
SAME DIFFERENCE
E.J. Copperman
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
First world edition published in Great Britain and the USA in 2024
by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd,
14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE.
This eBook edition first published in 2024 by Severn House Digital an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited
severnhouse.com
Copyright © E.J. Copperman, 2024
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The right of E.J. Copperman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-1203-0 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-1204-7 (e-book)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.
This ebook produced by Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.
Praise for the Fran & Ken Stein mystery novels
“Loads of fun”
Publishers Weekly on Ukulele of Death
“With unique, larger-than-life characters (literally), and an outlandish premise, this one may appeal to Janet Evanovich fans”
Booklist on Ukulele of Death
“Zips along at a fast and furious pace”
Publishers Weekly on Ukulele of Death
“With an enjoyable mix of sci-fi and mystery elements, Copperman’s latest features an intriguing and likable pair of detectives”
Library Journal on Ukulele of Death
“Wacky premise … [Features Copperman’s] most offbeat protagonist to date”
Kirkus Reviews on Ukulele of Death
“Twisty and bonkers and fun”
Multi award-winning author Catriona McPherson on The Ukulele of Death
About the author
E.J. Copperman is the nom de plume for Jeff Cohen, writer of intentionally funny murder mysteries. As E.J., he writes the Haunted Guesthouse and Agent to the Paws series, as well as the Jersey Girl Legal mysteries and the brand-new Fran & Ken Stein mysteries; as Jeff, he writes the Double Feature and Aaron Tucker series; and he collaborates with himself on the Samuel Hoenig Asperger’s mysteries.
A New Jersey native, E.J. worked as a newspaper reporter, teacher, magazine editor and screenwriter, before his first book was published to critical acclaim in 2002. In his spare time, Jeff is an extremely amateur guitar player, a fan of Major League Baseball, a couch potato and a crossword addict.
www.ejcopperman.com
Special thanks to Luci Zahray as ever.
This book is for anyone who knows who they are when others want them to be something else.
ONE
‘Ms Stein, my daughter is missing. And I’m just now getting used to her being my daughter. I need your help.’
Brian Hennessy sat across the desk from me and looked, if I may belabor the cliché, distraught. In my line of work that’s not terribly unusual. But Brian’s eyes showed pain that went beyond what I was used to and so far I wasn’t really registering the source. It looked, from my point of view, like guilt. And that’s never good when dealing with a missing person.
I had an idea of what he meant but I needed for Brian to say it, for his own good more than mine. ‘Is your daughter that young?’ I asked, despite knowing she was not.
Brian, whose face had dropped down to his hands, which held it up adequately but not visibly, straightened up to look at me. I had my desk chair on one of its lowest settings but he still had to crane his neck. I’m tall. We’ll get to that.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, although I didn’t see anything for which he needed to apologize. ‘I haven’t been clear. I’m just getting used to it, is all.’ That didn’t really help, but I gave him time to go on. ‘Apparently the child I always thought was my son was actually my daughter Eliza. Of course she would say she’s always been Eliza and is now just living her true life. And okay, if she says so, but that’s what I’m getting used to.’
Transgender people are not rare, particularly in New York City, where I live and work, but I didn’t know many myself. ‘So your daughter Eliza is missing. How long ago did she come out to you as trans?’
I could see that Brian was trying to understand his daughter, and not succeeding especially well. He was a former trade magazine editor (retail pharmacies, then home improvement stores and funeral homes before going freelance) in his fifties, a man who had just missed being in the generation that would find a person like Eliza absolutely usual, and he wanted to adjust. But old habits die hard and you could see Brian’s living in his tight jaw.
‘In January,’ he answered. ‘January eleventh, to be exact. She said it was something she’d decided to tell me as a new year’s resolution, can you believe that?’ I could, but said nothing. ‘And I could kick myself, but I never saw it coming. You have a son when you’re in your thirties and you think about throwing a football around or having the talk about women. You don’t expect your son to be a woman.’
I looked over at my brother Ken, who was sitting as his desk trying to pretend he was engrossed in some research on his laptop, which was resting on his knees and not on the perfectly functional and expensive desk we’d gotten for him when we opened the office. But I knew that Ken was listening to every word being said and would no doubt have some choice comments to make once Brian had left the office. Ken is not insensitive but he will never – ever – pass up a chance for a cheap joke. So maybe h
‘How did you react?’ I asked. I was hoping not to get the answer I expected.
‘I …’ Brian didn’t seem to know how to respond. Again, the best course of action was to let the moment play out. And never let it be said I didn’t follow the best course of action. Because it’s rare that I do, but that’s not my fault. Meanwhile Brian gathered himself again, took in a larger-than-usual breath and let it out slowly. ‘I told her I didn’t know how to accept it, that I thought it was just a phase she was going through and that she should see a psychiatrist. I mean, I didn’t throw her out of the house or anything, but that must have been how it sounded to her.’
‘How old is Eliza?’ I asked. I hadn’t given Brian the usual client intake form because it wasn’t yet clear whether he’d be a client or if I’d tell him K&F Stein Investigations couldn’t help him and send him – and our fee – out the door. So yeah, there was little danger of that happening.
‘She’s nineteen.’ Brian was doing his best not to screw up the pronouns he used to identify his daughter. I gave him credit for the effort he was clearly making. But he had a long way to go.
‘She’s an adult in the eyes of the law,’ I told him. ‘If she doesn’t want to be found, or if we find her and she’s unwilling to come back, I can’t compel her to return. You know that.’ I could tell because Brian was nodding his head in recognition.
‘I know. My late wife was an attorney. I understand the concept. But she vanished. Eliza. And I’m not certain she left voluntarily.’
Ken’s head rose from the gaze he was using probably to play a game on his laptop.
‘You think she was taken?’ I asked.
‘It’s been four months since she came out to me, and I’ve been trying to understand her better,’ Brian answered. ‘I don’t see any reason she’d feel the need to leave now. There have been some loud arguments, but we don’t hate each other.’ Parents often think all their children’s actions are about them, the parents. They’re so often not at all.
‘You want us to find Eliza,’ I said, because the words hadn’t been spoken yet and this was the time in the transaction when they should be.
‘Yes.’ Brian looked perfectly earnest. He nodded.
‘How long has she been missing?’ That was Ken. Unable to resist, he had walked over and sat on the edge of my desk, which are two things I have asked him not to do when I’m talking to a prospective client. I gave him a glance only a sibling would recognize and he, being Ken, ignored it. Brian, however, did not seem surprised that the man had walked over to help out the little lady. For the record, I am not a little lady. But some sexist attitudes die hard. (In fact, they all die hard.)
‘Five days,’ he said. To Ken. ‘She was home on Thursday and gone that night. I haven’t seen her since then. Her phone doesn’t answer. She’s not responding to texts or emails. She hasn’t posted on Instagram. This flat out isn’t like her. And that’s why I think she didn’t mean to vanish like this.’
Brian kept running his right hand over the fingernails on his left as if deciding whether they needed to be clipped. People show anxiety in ways that are specific to themselves. I tend to pace or push my hair back.
‘Have you filed a missing-person report with the police?’ Ken has learned enough in the two years we’ve been running the agency to ask that. I again sent him facial indications that he should, if I’m being polite, shut up.
‘Yeah, I told the cops. I filled out the forms and they filed them in their computers. He’s a trans woman. They could care less if they put in the effort, but they probably won’t even do that.’
That might or might not be the truth, but it’s certainly the way families of transgender people often believe, and they can quote statistics that might very well indicate a pattern. Whether or not it varied from precinct to precinct, I did not know. My contact at the local cop shop wasn’t currently able to look me in the eye. I promise you, all these things will be explained. The fact that Brian was still sometimes referring to his daughter as ‘he’ was another issue.
Feeling like I needed to shift the conversation back in my direction and let my brother know I hadn’t actually needed assistance, I asked, ‘Are there people she’d contact? Friends? Other relatives? Does she have aunts or uncles?’
Brian’s hands stopped assessing the length of his nails and fluttered a bit to indicate he found the question a bit irritating, of all things. ‘If I knew about people she’d contact, I’d have contacted them myself,’ he said, his voice rising in pitch a little. Ken looked over at me with an expression that told me he’d detected something. Ken can sense people’s respiration and heart rates when he tries. ‘She has friends, but I only know first names. Gerry. Rainbow. Michaela. I’m an only child, so there are no aunts or uncles on my side. Her mother has a sister. Had a sister, but …’ His speech trailed off and although I didn’t know what should have come after ‘but,’ I decided not to press the issue. The information would be on the client intake form anyway.
‘Is she involved with anyone at the moment, or has she been recently?’ I asked. I knew Brian wasn’t going to want to talk about that, but it was necessary information.
His lips tightened so that his mouth was little more than a slit. ‘Not that I know about.’
Ken, having read my face, remained silent, which was intelligent on his part. ‘All right,’ I told Brian. ‘If you want us to proceed from here, I’ll give you our intake form and urge you to please be as detailed as you can in your answers. You never know what little piece of information leads to a big breakthrough. But I’ll ask you one last question: How is your relationship with Eliza right now? Have you made your peace with her identity?’
Brian made a point of not making eye contact with me. ‘I’m a work in progress,’ he said. ‘That’s what she keeps saying, that we’re both works in progress. I’m trying, Ms Stein. Believe me. I’m doing my best not to use what she calls her “dead name.” I’m calling her she and I’m really starting to think of her that way. I’ve taken her for hormone treatments and my insurance pays for her transition therapy.’ And that’s when he looked me right in the eye again. ‘But more than anything else, I want to get my daughter back safe.’
‘We’ll do our best to find her,’ I told him, ‘but I’ll remind you, she’s an adult in the eyes of the law. If she wants to stay wherever she is, I can’t make her return.’
Brian reached out his hand. ‘Where’s that form?’ he asked.
After he’d filled out the form and I’d all but shooed Ken back to his own desk, from which he could more efficiently watch our receptionist Igavda (his favorite hobby, but he knows better than to do anything but look), Brian left the check for our retainer and left, looking approximately one percent less anguished than when he’d arrived. I sat down at my desk and tried to determine exactly how I’d find Eliza Hennessey (she’d kept the last name but didn’t use it much) given the almost complete lack of information I had to work with. But then, I was a professional investigator (it said so on our website and would soon be duplicated on the K&F Stein Investigations app Ken was promising to develop) so I had to have some ideas.
But not much was coming.
Our main clientele consists of people who were adopted and want to have some contact with their birth parents. On occasion we’ll do the opposite and help a person who gave a child up for adoption to find that person, always as an adult, so they can find out what kind of life the baby might have had.
It wasn’t completely out of our wheelhouse to look for a missing person, then. Finding someone who does or doesn’t want to be found is roughly the same process, but in this case I’d have to assume Eliza was not interested in being located, or that she was being held against her will. She wasn’t answering any attempts to communicate with her, and those are the two possibilities.
Actually, there’s a third. She could have lost her phone. But that didn’t seem the likeliest.
I skimmed the intake form again. There wasn’t much. There was a recent picture of Eliza, which was more than I probably would have expected from Brian (I had anticipated a photograph of Eliza before transition), and the same list of her friends’ first names. There were no obvious places she might have headed for if she was trying to break free.
