She read the first part about the fascist regime and then her eyes started to glaze over.
It was like something Calvin and Hobbes would concoct during a meeting of G.R.O.S.S. to get back at Susie Derkins.
Andy returned to the Army page and found a section called MEMBERS. Most of the names were in blue hyperlinks amid the sea of black text. Dozens of people. How had Andy never seen a Dateline or Lifetime movie about this insane cult?
William Johnson. Dead.
Franklin Powell. Dead.
Metta Larsen. Dead.
Andrew Queller—
Andy’s heart flipped, but Andrew’s name was in black, which meant he didn’t have a page. Then again, you didn’t have to be Scooby-Doo to link him back to QuellCorp and its assassinated namesake.
She scrolled back up to Martin Queller and clicked his name. Apparently, there were a lot more famous Quellers out there that Andy didn’t know about. His wife, Annette Queller, née Logan, had a family line that would take hours to explore. Their eldest son, Jasper Queller, was hyperlinked, but Andy already knew the asshole billionaire who kept trying and failing to run for president.
The cursor drifted over the next name: Daughter, Jane “Jinx” Queller.
“Jane?” Clara asked, because she had Alzheimer’s and her mind was trapped in a time over thirty years ago when she knew a woman named Jane who looked just like Andy.
Just as Andy looked like the Daniela B. Cooper photo in the fake Canada driver’s license.
Her mother.
Andy started to cry. Not just cry, but sob. A wail came out of her mouth. Tears and snot rolled down her face. She leaned over, her forehead on the seat of the couch.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Clara was on her knees, her arms wrapped around Andy’s shoulders.
Andy shook with grief. Was Laura’s real name Jane Queller? Why did this one lie matter so much more than the others?
“Here, let me.” Clara slid the laptop over and started to type. “It’s okay, my darling. I cry when I watch mine sometimes, too, but look at this one. It’s perfect.”
Clara slid the laptop back to the center.
Andy tried to wipe her eyes. Clara put a tissue in her hand. Andy blew her nose, tried to stanch her tears. She looked at the laptop.
Clara had pulled up a YouTube video.
!!!RARE!!! JINX QUELLER 1983 CARNEGIE HALL!!!
What?
“That green dress!” Clara’s eyes glowed with excitement. She clicked the icon for full screen. “A fait accompli.”
Andy did not know what to do but watch the video as it autoplayed. The recording was fuzzy and weirdly colored, like everything else from the eighties. An orchestra was already on stage. A massive, black grand piano was front and center.
“Oh!” Clara unmuted the sound.
Andy heard soft murmurs from the crowd.
Clara said, “This was my favorite part. I always peeked out to feel their mood.”
For some reason, Andy held her breath.
The audience had gone silent.
A very thin woman in a dark green evening gown walked out of the wings.