She said, "What were you doing in Louisville? We used to go for the Derby, but it's been ages."

A maid came to the door. "I left Mr. Bethel's plate in the warming oven. Will there be anything else?"

"No, dear. That's fine. We'll see you in the morning, "

"Yes, ma'am," the woman said, and then withdrew.

I said, "Actually, I went to Louisville on a research trip. Do you remember Benny Quintero, the fellow who was killed here a few years ago?"

"Of course. Mark represented Mickey."

"Well, as it happens, Benny was from Louisville. He went to Manual the same time you were at Louisville Male High."

Her lips parted in expectation. "What kind of research was this? I can't imagine."

"I keep thinking there's a connection between Benny Quintero's death and Mickey's being shot last week."

Laddie's frown was delicate. "That's quite a leap."

"Not really," I said, "though it does seem odd. Here the four of you come from the same hometown."

"Four? "

"Sure. You, Mark, Benny, and Duncan Oaks. You remember Duncan," I said.

"Of course, but he's been gone for years.

"My point exactly," I said. Gee, this was going better than I'd thought. "During his stint in Vietnam, Mark was at la Drang, right?"

"You'd have to verify that with him, but I believe so."

"Turns out Benny was there too.

Laddie blinked. "I'm not following. What does any of this have to do with me?"

"Let me back up a step. Didn't Duncan Oaks interview you for the Louisville Tribune?"

She said, "Kinsey, what is this? I don't mean to be rude, but you're skipping back and forth and I'm confused. I really don't see the relevance."

"Just hear me out," I said. "Duncan was doing a series for the local paper. He interviewed army wives, like you, who'd been left behind, you know, talking about the war from their perspective. His idea was to tell the same story through the eyes of the husbands off fighting in Vietnam."

Laddie shook her head, shrugging. "I guess I'll have to take your word for it."

"At any rate, he did talk to you."

She took a sip of wine. "It's possible. I don't remember."

"Don't worry about the date. I've asked his editor to send a copy of the article. We can pin it down from that. Anyway, Duncan's editor says he flew to Vietnam in September of '65. He ran into Mark and Benny at la Drang, which was where Duncan disappeared." I was doling out pure theory, but I noticed she'd stopped offering much in the way of objections. "Seven years later Benny shows up in Santa Teresa with Duncan Oaks's ID. The next thing you know, Benny's been murdered. You see the link?"

"Benny wasn't murdered. You're overstating the situation. As I remember, Benny had a subdural hematoma, and his death was the result of an arterial bleed. Given the nature of his injury, it could have happened any time. Even the coroner's report said that."

"Really? You're probably right. You have quite a memory for the details," I said.

"Mark and I discussed it at the time. I suppose it stuck in my mind."

"Mickey's another link. He went off to Louisville on Thursday, May eighth. He came back on Monday, and in the wee hours of Wednesday morning he was shot, as you know."

Laddie's smile was thin. "Not to sound superior, but you're committing what's called a post hoc fallacy. Just because one event follows another doesn't mean there's a cause-and-effect relationship."

"I see. In other words, just because Benny knew something doesn't mean he died for it."

"Is this what you wanted to discuss with Mark?"

"In part."

"Then let's leave that. I'm sure it's more appropriate to wait till he comes in."

I said, "Fine. Could we talk about your relationship with Duncan?"

"I'd hardly call it a relationship. I knew him, of course. We went all through school together."

"Were you pals, confidants, boyfriend/girlfriend?"

"We were friends, that's all. There was never anything between us, if that's what you're getting at."

"Actually, it is," I said. "I thought since you were the king and queen of the senior prom, you might have been sweet on each other."

Laddie smiled, her composure restored. This was something she'd thought about; her version of the story was preassembled and prepackaged. "Duncan wasn't interested in me romantically, nor I in him."

"Too bad. He looked cute."

"He was cute. He was also extremely narcissistic, which I found obnoxious. There's nothing worse than a seventeen-year-old kid who thinks he's hot stuff."

"You don't think he was charismatic?"

"He thought he was," she said. "I thought he was conceited, nice, funny, but such a snob."

"What about your father?"

She looked at me askance. "My father? What's he have to do with this?"

"This is peripheral and probably none of my business, "

"None of this is your business," she said, bridling.

I smiled to show I hadn't taken offense. "I was told he was awarded a patent that earned him a lot of money. I gather, before that, he was considered a bit eccentric."

"If he was, so what? Make your point."

"I'm just thinking his fortune must have changed people's perception of you. Duncan's, in particular."

She was silent.

"Yes? No?"

"I suppose," she said.

"You went from being one down to one up where he was concerned. He sounds like the type who enjoyed a conquest, to prove he could do it, if nothing else."

"Are you trying to build a case for something?"

"I'm just trying to get a feel for what kind of guy he was."

"A dead one."

"Before that. You never had a fling with him?"

"Oh, please. Don't be silly. We never had an affair."

"Hey, an affair is six weeks or more. A fling can be anything from one night to half a dozen."

"I never had a fling with him, either."

"When did Mark leave for Vietnam? I know you married him in June. His orders came through…

"July twenty-sixth," she said, biting off the words.

"The way I read the situation, Duncan was in Louisville after Mark shipped out. There you were, a young newlywed with a husband off at war. I'm sure you were lonely, needy…"

"This is offensive. You're being extremely insulting, not only to me but to Mark."

"Insulting about what?" Mark said from the corridor. He shrugged out of his overcoat and tossed it over the back of a chair. He must have come in through the kitchen. His high forehead and receding hairline gave him an air of innocence, the same look babies have before they learn to bite and talk back. Laddie got up to greet him. I watched the two of them as he bussed her cheek.

He said, "Hang on a minute while I make a quick call." He crossed to the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

Laddie said, "What's going on?"

Mark raised a finger to indicate the dispatcher had picked up. "Hi, this is Mark Bethel. I'm at Four-fortyeight Savanna Lane. I've got a couple of guys parked in a car near the entrance to my gate. Could you have A patrol car cruise by? I really don't like the looks of them… Thanks. I'd appreciate that." He replaced the handset and turned to Laddie and me with a shake of his head. "Probably harmless, a lovers' tryst, but just on the off chance they're casing the place.." He rubbed his palms together. "I could use a glass of wine. "

I tried to picture Detectives Claas and Aldo busted by the local cops on a morals charge.

Laddie poured Chardonnay in a glass, holding it by the stem so as not to smudge the bowl. The trembling of her hand caused the wine to wobble in the glass.

Mark didn't seem to notice. He took the glass and sat down, giving me his full attention. "I hope I didn't interrupt. "

"We were talking about Benny Quintero," Laddie said. "She's just back from Louisville, where she did some research."

"Benny. Poor guy."

I said, "I didn't realize you were all from the same town."