"How far back should we go?" Deborah questioned.
"I'd suggest a month and then work backward," Joanna said.
The women got a stack of several weeks' worth of papers and carried them over to a vacant library table. They divided the stack in two and went to work.
"This isn't as easy as I thought it would be," Deborah said. "I was wrong about ages and birth dates. Few of the death notices have them."
"We'll have to just look at the obituaries," Joanna said. "They all seem to have the age."
The women went through the first stack of papers without success and went back for another.
"There certainly aren't many young women," Joanna commented.
"Nor young men," Deborah added. "People our age are not supposed to die that often. And even if they do, they're usually not famous enough to have an obituary written about them. Of course we don't want the name of anyone famous either, so we might have a problem here. But let's not give up yet."
After three more trips to get fresh stacks of papers, they had success.
"Ah, here's one!" Deborah said. "Georgina Marks."
Joanna looked over Deborah's shoulder. "How old?"
"Twenty-seven," Deborah said. "She was born January 28, 1973."
"Right time frame," Joanna said. "Does it say what she died of?"
"Yes, it does," Deborah said. She was quiet while she scanned the rest of the article. "She was accidentally shot in a shopping mall parking lot. Obviously in the wrong place at the wrong time. Apparently rival gangs were having a fight, and she caught a stray bullet. Can you imagine being called up and being told your wife was killed while she was out on a shopping trip at the neighborhood mall?" Deborah shuddered. "To make it worse, it says here she was the mother of four young children. The youngest was only six months old."
"I think it is best if we don't obsess about the sad details," Joanna said. "For us, these should be just names, not people."
"You're right," Deborah agreed. "At least she wasn't famous except for the tragic way she died, so it should be a good name for our purposes. I suppose I'll be Georgina Marks." She wrote the name and the birth date down on a pad of paper she and Joanna had brought.
"Now let's find a name for you," Deborah said.
Both women went back to scouring the obituaries. It wasn't until they'd perused six more weeks of papers that Deborah came across another name candidate.
"Prudence Heatherly, age twenty-four!" Deborah read out loud. "Now that name has an interesting ring to it. It's perfect for you, Joanna. It even sounds like a librarian, so it will go with your disguise."
"I don't find that funny in the slightest," Joanna said. "Let me read the obituary." She reached for the paper, but Deborah moved it out of her reach.
"I thought we weren't going to obsess about the details?" Deborah teased.
"I'm not obsessing," Joanna said. "I want to make sure she's not a local celebrity in Bookford. Besides, I feel I have to know something about the woman if I'm going to be borrowing her name."
"I thought these were just names, not people."
"Please!" Joanna enunciated slowly as if losing her patience.
Deborah handed the paper over and watched her roommate's face while she read the obituary. Joanna's expression progressively sagged.
"Is it bad?" Deborah asked when Joanna looked up.
"I'd say it was just as bad as Georgina's story," Joanna said. "She was a graduate student at Northeastern."
"That's getting a little too close to home," Deborah said. "What did she die of, or shouldn't I ask?"
"She was pushed in front of the Red Line subway at the Washington Street station." Now it was Joanna's turn to shudder. "A homeless man with no apparent motive did it. My word! What a tragedy for a parent getting a call saying your daughter was pushed in front of a train by a vagrant."
"At least we have the two names," Deborah said. She snatched the paper away from Joanna and refolded it. She wrote Prudence Heatherly down on the pad below Georgina, then busied herself restacking the papers. Joanna was motionless for a moment but then pitched in to help. Together the women carried the papers back to where they were kept.
Fifteen minutes later, first Deborah and then Joanna exited the library from the same entrance they'd entered. Although they were pensively subdued, they were pleased with their progress. It had only taken an hour and three quarters to get the two names.
"Should we walk or take the subway?" Deborah questioned.
"Let's take the subway," Joanna answered.
From the front of the library it was only a short walk to the inbound T stop on Boylston Street, and the Green Line took them directly to Government Center. When they emerged on the street level they were conveniently in front of the inappropriately modern Boston City Hall, which loomed out of its brick-paved mall like an enormous anachronism.
"Can you tell me where I'd find death certificates?" Joanna asked the receptionist at the information desk located in the building's multistoried lobby. Joanna had waited several minutes before speaking. The woman was involved in an animated but hushed dialogue with her colleague sitting next to her.
"They're downstairs at the Registry Department,' the woman said without looking up and hardly interrupting her conversation.
Joanna rolled her eyes for Deborah's benefit. The two women set out for the wide stairs leading downward. Once on the lower level they found the proper Registry Department window without difficulty. The only problem was there wasn't any personnel in evidence.
"Hello!" Deborah called out. "Anybody home?"
A woman's head popped up from behind a row of file cabinets. "Can I help you?" she called out.
"We'd like several death certificates," Deborah answered back.
The woman ambled around the row of file cabinets, rocking from side to side. She was wearing a black dress that restrained her ample flesh in a series of descending, horizontal bulges. Reading glasses hung around her neck on a chain and rested on the nearly horizontal swelling of her bosom. She came to the counter and leaned on it. "I need to know the names and the year," she said in a bored voice.
"Georgina Marks and Prudence Heatherly," Joanna said. "And both passed away this year, 2001."
"It takes a week to ten days for the certificates to get here," the woman said.
"We have to wait that long to get them?" Joanna questioned with dismay.
"No, that's how long the death certificates take to get here to the registry after the individual dies. I only mention it because if these people you're interested in have just passed away, the certificates won't be here."
"Both these people have been dead for over a month," Joanna said.
"Then they should be here," the woman said. "That will be six dollars each."
"We only want to look at the certificates," Joanna said. "We don't need to remove them from the premises."
"Six dollars each is fine," Deborah interjected. She gave Joanna a jab in the side to keep her quiet.
After writing the names down while eyeing Joanna skeptically, the woman leisurely disappeared behind the file cabinets.
"Why did you poke me?" Joanna complained.
"I didn't want you messing things up to save twelve dollars," Deborah whispered. "If the woman guesses we're here just to get Social Security numbers she might get suspicious. I think I would. So we'll pay the money, take the certificates, and get the hell out of here."
"I guess you're right," Joanna said reluctantly.
"Of course I'm right," Deborah said.
The clerk returned a quarter hour later with the forms. Deborah and Joanna had the money ready and the exchange was made. Five minutes later the women were back outside where each carefully copied down the respective Social Security numbers onto a piece of paper. They pocketed the death certificates.
"I suggest we try to memorize the numbers while we're on the way to the bank," Joanna said. "It might attract attention if we don't."