“How many years have you been dancing?” I said as we were situated in the living room and she was pouring. The tea she served was Darjeeling, the cookies were sugar.

“Since I was a girl,” she said. “I had stopped for years before I found the club.”

“From the pictures, I can tell you love it.”

“It’s a place where I can forget about things.”

“What things?” I said.

She looked at me levelly. “Can we get on with this?”

“Okay,” I said, picking up my teacup, taking a sip. Hot, rich, and florid, like a ripe bunch of daffodils. “We only have a couple of questions.”

Right then Derek took out a small tape recorder and pressed a few buttons, then a few buttons more, grunting a bit until he got the thing to work. He laid it on the coffee table beside the pot of tea.

“What’s that?” she said.

“Just a tape recorder,” said Derek. “I only got hold of it today, so I’m still trying to figure it out. You don’t mind, do you, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she said. “I do.” She turned to me. “Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe I ought to call Clarence.”

“Put it away, Derek,” I said. “That’s totally unnecessary. We’re merely having a friendly little chat.”

Derek shook his head as he picked up the tape player, clicked a few more buttons, and put the player back in his pocket.

“Better?” I said.

“No.”

“We were talking about Miles Cave and his money.”

“Were we?”

“We are now. What do you know of him?”

She paused for an instant to bite her lip. “I’ve seen his name in the records.”

“Did he ever come into the office?”

“Not that I remember.” She scrunched her face, as if considering. She glanced at Derek and then said, “But there were letters, and he did call occasionally. I always put him right through to Dr. Denniston.”

“Do you know anything about him? Where he is?”

“No.”

“Anything you know of a personal nature would be of much interest. Anything?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are.”

“You mind if I take a cookie?” said Derek.

“Help yourself,” said Margaret.

“I noticed the picture of you and Mr. Swift,” I said. “You make a lovely couple. How long have you been engaged?”

“Seven years now.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Clarence doesn’t like to rush into things.”

“Are you as cautious as he is?”

“I think it’s wise to be sure.”

“Seven years is a lot of wisdom.”

“I love him very much,” she said with a flat sincerity.

“That’s sweet. How’d you kids meet?”

“Dr. Denniston introduced us. At the time I was working as a secretary in his medical office.”

“What kind of cookie is this?” said Derek.

“Sugar.”

“It’s good. Can I have another?”

“Take two,” said Margaret. “Clarence and I are very happy together, Mr. Carl. We’re very much in love, and we’ve been quite busy making plans.”

“For your wedding?”

“And other things, yes.”

“Do you have a wedding date?”

“Not yet,” she said. “But we’re very close to working things out.”

“And I suppose Edna is quite happy with everything.”

“Edna?” She worked at a tooth with her tongue for a moment, as if suddenly in pain. “Hardly.”

“No? Why not?”

“She has plans for Clarence. Plans that don’t include me.”

I looked at her for a moment, blankly. From the similarity in features, I had assumed that Edna and Margaret were somehow related. “I’m surprised that his secretary takes such a personal interest in her boss.”

“She’s not just his secretary Mr. Carl, she’s also his mother.”

“Ahh, yes, I forgot,” I said, trying not to gag on my tea. I raised the cup to her as if in a toast. “Well, I wish you both the best.”

“Thank you.”

“Who deposited the checks that came in to Inner Circle? Did Dr. Denniston do it himself, or did he entrust you with that task?”

“He trusted me completely.”

“And you received all the bank records.”

“Yes.”

“And reviewed them.”

“That was part of my job.”

“How about Mr. Cave’s investment? Did you take care of that, too?”

“Dr. Denniston took care of Mr. Cave’s investment himself.”

“Did you notice the deposit on one of the bank statements?”

“I don’t recall.”

“It was over a million dollars.”

“We had a lot of large investments.”

“Not that large, I dare say, and not that late in the game. Has Mr. Nettles asked about that deposit?”

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t been able to find it, have you?”

“We’re still looking.”

“And the subsequent withdrawal.”

“The company’s records are all clear.”

“Of course they are. But Mr. Nettles mentioned discrepancies with the bank statements, and I assumed he was referring to Mr. Cave’s deposit. Was it usual for your investors to pay in cash?”

“Oh, no. There was always either a check or the money was wired.”

“What about Mr. Cave’s investment? Could that have been in cash?”

“I don’t know. I never saw a check, but like I said, Dr. Denniston took complete care of Mr. Cave’s investment.”

“And if the cash was somewhere, not in the bank, you wouldn’t know where it is.”

“What are you implying, Mr. Carl?”

“I’m looking for Miles Cave. Actually, to be more precise, I’m looking for Miles Cave’s money. Do you have any idea where I should start my search?”

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry.” Pause. More thinking. It was like a tectonic shift as Margaret creased her features. “But I believe I heard that Mr. Cave doesn’t live here. He lives on the West Coast or something, if that helps.”

“And he wears sunglasses,” I said.

“How should I know that?”

“Exactly.” I put down my tea, stood up. “Thank you, Margaret, I won’t take up any more of your time. The tea was delicious.”

Her pinched face relaxed a bit. “It was actually nice to have a visitor.”

“Clarence doesn’t come over?”

“Oh, occasionally. He likes when I cook him a good steak dinner. Recently I’ve been getting the meat delivered straight from the Midwest. I keep it in the freezer Clarence bought me.” Margaret bit her lower lip. “But usually we meet for dinners in town after work, or we would go out with the Dennistons before… well, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I miss Dr. Denniston, Mr. Carl. He was very good to me.”

“And Mrs. Denniston, too, I suppose.”

“Not really,” she said.

“You don’t like Mrs. Denniston much?”

“Dr. Denniston was a kind man, but his life went awry the moment he met his wife.”

“And you blame her?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Where’s the freezer?” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“The freezer Clarence bought you?”

“In the basement.”

“Big, is it?”

“Not really.”

“I mean the freezer, not the basement.”

“Neither.”

“You mind I take another cookie?” said Derek.

“Didn’t you eat?” I said.

“Not since lunch, bo.”

“Then I’ll drop you off at a diner.”

“Just asking for a cookie.”

“Take the rest,” said Margaret, offering the plate, her craggy face breaking into a slight smile.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, giving me a look as he stood.

“Did you have difficulties with Mrs. Denniston?” I said.

“She must have, bo,” said Derek, cutting in as he stuffed cookies into his pocket. “Calling her a slagheap and a bangster. You don’t write that to your pals. But one thing I was wondering. What exactly is a bangster? Slagheap I can figure, but bangster? That’s a new one on me.”

I looked at Derek for a moment like he was the biggest idiot in the universe and then turned to Margaret, who was standing stock-still with shock, her eyes staring out with the horror of discovery, our discovery, as if we had opened the bathroom door and seen her naked.

“I assume it’s bad,” said Derek. “Not as bad as witch’s cunt, or is it?”

“Get out,” said Margaret, her voice steely cold.

“I didn’t mean nothing by it-”