Billy came to the table followed by Sean O’Brien, a solid-looking man of about fifty-five, with a full head of graying brown hair, alert brown eyes, and a genial smile.

“Season’s greetings, Nor,” he began, then immediately sensed something was wrong. “What’s up?” he asked abruptly, as he and Billy sat down.

“We were hired for a party the Badgett brothers gave this afternoon,” Nor began.

“The Badgett brothers?” O’Brien raised one eyebrow, then listened intently as they told him of the message on the answering machine and Junior Badgett’s response to it.

“I know the voice,” Nor finished. “I’m sure that man has been a customer here.”

“Nor, the feds have been trying to pin something on those two for years. They’re as slippery as fish in olive oil. They’re crooks and they’re vicious. If that was a local call, I wouldn’t be surprised to be reading tomorrow about a warehouse that burned down overnight.”

“Is there anything we can do to try to stop them?” Billy asked.

“I can alert the feds, but those guys have interests all over. We know for sure they have a presence in Vegas and Los Angeles. That message could have come from anywhere, but no matter where it came from, it doesn’t mean the warehouse is in that vicinity.”

“I never knew the Badgetts were that bad,” Billy said. “You hear rumors, but they have those car and boat dealerships…”

“They’ve got a dozen legitimate businesses,” O’Brien said. “That’s the way they launder their money. I’ll make some calls. The feds will at least want to keep them under surveillance, but those guys never dirty their own hands.”

Nor rubbed her forehead, her face troubled. “There’s a reason I remember that voice. Wait a minute.” She beckoned a waiter. “Sam, ask Dennis to join us. You cover the bar.”

O’Brien looked at her. “It’s better if nobody else knows you overheard that conversation.”

“I trust Dennis with my life,” Nor said.

The table is getting crowded, Sterling thought. I’ll have to stand. He felt the chair being pulled out and jumped up quickly. He had no desire to have Dennis sitting on his lap.

“… and, Dennis, I’m sure I’ve heard that voice in this restaurant,” Nor concluded a few minutes later. “He pronounced ‘very’ as ‘wery.’ Granted that could have been just nerves, but I thought maybe it’s a guy who sits at the bar and talks with you sometimes.”

Dennis shook his head. “I can’t think of a soul, Nor. But I do know this-if that Badgett guy was on the level when he talked about burning down a warehouse, the fellow who called him will be ‘wery upset.’ ”

“Wery, wery upset,” Billy agreed.

They all laughed nervously.

They’re trying to use humor to cover their very real anxieties, Sterling thought. If the Badgett brothers are as bad as Sean O’Brien believes they are, and if Nor and Billy have to testify about that call… Poor Marissa. She was so happy today.

O’Brien got up. “I’ve got to make some phone calls,” he said. “Nor, can I use your office?”

“Of course.”

“You and Billy come with me. I want to put you on the phone and have you repeat exactly what you heard.”

“I’ll be at the bar.” Dennis pushed his chair back.

If I were still alive, that chair would have smashed my big toe, Sterling thought.

“Nor, I thought you and Billy were doing a holiday performance here at the restaurant tonight,” a patron at a nearby table called. “We came specially to hear you two sing.”

“You’re going to.” Nor smiled. “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

In the office, O’Brien phoned his contact at the FBI, and Nor and Billy recounted what they had overheard. When the call ended, Nor shrugged her shoulders. “It is what it is. Unless I can remember whose voice that is, I’m no use to them.”

Billy’s cell phone rang. “It’s Rissa,” he said as he looked at the Caller ID. His troubled expression cleared. “Hi, baby… We just got back… No, we didn’t see the swimming pool or the bowling alley… Well, I wouldn’t say they were like the Sopranos.”

“I would,” Nor murmured.

“Uh-huh, we did our usual bit…” He laughed. “…Of course we were sensational. They couldn’t get enough of us. Listen, baby, NorNor will say a quick hello, then you get to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

He handed the phone to Nor, then turned to O’Brien. “You’ve met my daughter, Marissa, haven’t you?”

“Sure. I thought she owned this place.”

“She thinks she does.”

Nor said good night to Marissa and smiled ruefully as she snapped the phone closed and handed it to Billy. She looked at O’Brien. “I can’t help wondering if that poor guy who was begging for more time to pay off a loan is supporting a family.”

Billy put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “You look tired, Mom, so I hate to say it, but your public awaits…”

“I know. We’ve got to get out there. Give me a minute to do my face.”

O’Brien reached in his pocket. “Here’s my card. If you get a brainstorm, call me at any time. I’ll give one to Dennis too.”

By 9:30, when Nor and Billy began to perform, every table in the restaurant was filled. They did two half-hour shows, one at 9:30, then another at 11, for the late-night crowd.

They’re troupers, Sterling thought. You’d never know they have a care in the world. The minute Nor finished the first show she slipped into her office, carrying the reservations books for the last two years under her arm. Sterling sat with her as she went through them, saying each name aloud as she went down the list.

Several times she stopped and repeated a name, then shook her head and continued to read. She’s trying to see if the name of the guy whose voice they heard jumps out at her, Sterling thought.

The concern in Nor’s face deepened as she spoke name after name. But then she glanced at her watch and jumped up, opened her bag and pulled out her compact. In seconds she had lightly powdered her face, touched up her eyes and lips. She pulled the jeweled comb out of her hair and shook her head. Sterling was amazed at how deftly she twisted the long tresses in her fingers, swept them up, and anchored them once again.

“I feel like Minnie off the pickle boat,” she said aloud, “but I guess the show must go on.”

You look wonderful, Sterling wanted to protest. You’re a really beautiful woman. And who the heck is Minnie off the pickle boat?

At the door of the office, Nor let out a quick sigh, but a moment later she was wreathed in smiles as she stopped at table after table to exchange a few words with her patrons.

This place is full, Sterling noticed, and it’s obvious from the way Nor talks to everyone that they’re all regulars. They seem so glad to have a word with her. Well, she’s good. He listened as she inquired about someone’s mother, someone’s son, another’s planned vacation, then congratulated a couple who had just become engaged.

The Heavenly Council will never tell her that she didn’t pay attention to other people, Sterling thought. That’s for sure. Too bad I wasn’t more like her.

Billy was deep in conversation with a man and woman at a corner table. Sterling decided to tune in. I hope nobody else joins us, he thought as he took the one empty chair. Then as he caught the gist of the conversation, he raised his eyebrows. These people were executives from Empire Recording Company, and they wanted to sign Billy to a contract.

The man was saying, “I don’t have to tell you the kind of people we’ve launched. We’ve been scouting you for a while, and you’ve got it, Billy. We’re offering you a two-album contract.”

“I’m very flattered and it sounds great, but you’ll have to talk to my agent,” Billy said, smiling.

He’s trying to hide that he’s thrilled, Sterling realized. It’s every young singer’s dream to be signed up by a record company. What a crazy day.