Very interested. Another year, I would have been Frances’s stepmother.”

“Did you have a key to the house?” Lucas asked. She shook her head. “No. Hunter had a key to mine. People knew about us, but it’s not like we were down in the next bedroom."

"Had Hunter asked you to marry him?” Lucas asked. “No. But he would have,” she said. “We’d talked, and I think he went up to Canada to think about it. He would have decided that it was the thing to do. A matter of time.”

“You’re sure,” Lucas said. “I’m sure. I don’t think Alyssa would believe that-but the fact is, Hunter really did need an emotional relationship with somebody, some warmth,” she said. “He didn’t get it from her. They’d signed off on that. They slept in separate bedrooms, led separate lives.”

“Excuse the expression,” Lucas said. “But uh, why should he buy the calf if he’s already getting the milk?”

The question made her laugh, sputtering in her coffee. “God, if that weren’t so offensive, it’d really be offensive.”

“Sorry."

"No, you’re not. You’re trying to provoke me. Give me a moment.” She stared down at her coffee cup for a moment, as if saying grace over it, then looked up again. “See, many men and women need more than sex. They like to sit at dinner and talk about what happened that day- all the inane moments in daily life, who said what to whom, why so and- so always wears blue suits, what happened to the Beaver’s aileron. It’s called ‘having a life.’ Hunter and Alyssa didn’t have one. We did.”

Lucas said, “Huh.” They looked at each other for a moment, over their drinks, and then Lucas asked, “I don’t want to sound too much like a TV show, but where were you the night Frances was killed?”

“Working,” she said. “I’d been one week at General Mills and I needed to get up to speed.”

“Witnesses?” She cocked her head: “People came in and out… I work in a big bay, with cubicles. If you pressed, you might find people who saw me that night, but couldn’t vouch for the fact that I’d been there the whole time. If anybody remembered at all. The story didn’t get out until the next day, so it was just another working night. Or, come to think of it, there are cameras around, so there might be videotapes, if you asked GM security.”

“So the short answer would be, ‘No-probably no witnesses,’” Lucas said.

“Something like that, but not that short,” she said. “Maybe, no witnesses, but videotapes.”

“How often were you at the Austin house?” She had to think, her lips moving, her eyes up toward the ceiling: “Three times. Or, let me see. I’ve got a feeling there might have been another time, a fourth, but I can’t remember what for. All business social.”

“Did you help with the food?” Lucas asked. “I don’t help with food,” she said. “I don’t know where they kept the knives."

"In a drawer in the kitchen.”

“There’s a surprise,” she said. “What kind of name is Trenoff?” Her forehead wrinkled: “What kind do you think?"

"Russian?” She exhaled and said, “Your mind is a steel trap.” That made Lucas smile: “Not first generation."

"About fifth. What difference would it make?"

"Just making conversation, to prove that I’m human and to loosen you up for the killer questions,” Lucas said. “Well, here I am, all loose,” she said. “Wheel those bitches out.” He laughed again and confessed, “I don’t have any, I’m afraid. Do you like your new job?"

"I hate it,” she said. “I’m at the bottom of the heap again. I took it because I needed to bring my marketing skills up to par. I went from a junior position at AUS to the top of the company, and now I need to sharpen up and get back into it. I’ve got a job interview, I won’t say who with, but a company bigger than General Mills, in two weeks. I will get the job. And my office will have a door on it.”

“So you’re a little bitter,” Lucas suggested. “Oh, no. I couldn’t stay at AUS. I knew that-I couldn’t have stayed if Hunter and I had married. I was on my way out one way or another.” Now her chin trembled and a tear popped out; she took off her glasses to wipe it away. “We were going to have kids. He wanted a son. Alyssa didn’t like stretch marks, she didn’t like being pregnant, I don’t think she liked Frances that much. Maybe I’m not being fair.”

“I think she loved Frances,” Lucas said. “Maybe in a WASP way. As opposed to the Russian.”

“That’s about right,” she agreed. They chatted about smaller matters, but she was getting impatient

She had nice teeth, and a nice smile, and if he dropped his eyelids a bit, blurred her out, he could see her as the fairy. Some lipstick, some makeup, some clothes…

“What do you know about Goth?” he asked. “Goth? What do you mean, Goth?” she asked. “Gothic? Like the cathedral at Chartres?"

"Where?” Now he was confused. “Cathedral?"

"Chartres. France,” she said. “Like, the country.” He shook his head. “No-I mean, like the people who walk around in black clothes.” The forehead wrinkle again: “Oh. Well. Nothing.”

“I GOT NOTHING else,” he said, at the end of it. “Hmm,” she said. “I’d expected one more thing."

"About what?"

"About Alyssa’s affairs,” she said. “She had affairs?"

"Several. Maybe not several, but two or three. Dancer kind of guys

Hunter was really straight-you know, navy flier, hard work, even church, sometimes. He carried a little too much weight. He looked like a man. Alyssa was one of those women who… she thought she was Madonna. She always had the taste for the well- turned male butt.”

“Dancer kind of guys,” Lucas said. “Yes."

"So what are you telling me?” Lucas asked. “I don’t think she had anything to do with Frances,” Trenoff said

“But what if there was a mistaken identity, but it was one of these guys?”

“Do you know any of them?”

“Frank Willett. W- i- l- l- e- t- t. Write it down,” she said. Lucas wrote it down. “Who is he?"

"He worked as a trainer at one of her clubs. Karate guy, you know

Model. Bicycle racer, rock climber, surfer, ski- racer. One of those guys you can’t figure out how they make a living.”

“When was this? The affair?"

"Well, they were going at it a year ago,” she said. “Hunter told me about it."

"So he knew."

"She didn’t tell him, but he knew. And they did do it at her house.” They sat in silence for a moment, and then she said, “Awful, isn’t it? People selling each other out?"

"Trying to catch a killer,” Lucas said. “Well, if your online biography is right, you’re pretty good at it."

"Not bad,” he said. He stood up, and she stood up, and they shook hands again. “Good luck with the new job.” She clutched the briefcase to her breast, looked out over it and said, “Luck is not a factor. I’ll get the job and then I’ll work harder than anyone they’ve ever hired.”

He watched her going off down the skyway, weaving through the crowd, looking at her Rolex.

She would always be in a hurry, he thought, right up until she dropped dead.

Could be the fairy. Physically, anyway. But if she was the fairy, what was she doing with the guy who shot at Lucas? She seemed to have nothing but disdain for Austin’s lover. And, if Lucas could judge by a one- second look, and he thought he could, the guy who shot at him would be one much like Frank Willett.

One of those guys who you can’t figure out how they make a living.

He looked at his notebook: Maybe get a look at Willett, huh?