“There’s a place down the street called Rosie’s. Ever eaten there?”

“No. We can go wherever you like.”

THE walk was silent but did seem to make her a little less woebegone. The sky was blue, the air was crisp and clean, the whole city had washed its face. When we stepped into Rosie’s and found a booth, she revived enough to notice the decor of the bar and grill, which had been designed as a tribute to Rosie the Riveter. The proud daughter of a war worker had established the business, then willed it to an old coot named Johnny Smith, who gave me grief for not coming around more often. By the time Johnny and I were finished exchanging news of mutual friends and family, Anna said maybe she’d order something after all.

After we ordered, she said, “About Altair…,” but I held up a hand, giving her the palm-out stop sign.

“Until we’ve eaten lunch, I forbid discussion on three topics: Ben, Sheila, and Altair. After we’ve eaten, fine.”

She looked completely stymied.

“Tell me about your new place. Do your dogs like it?”

She left the description of the new place at “renting a small two-bedroom with a big yard,” and named an address very near the one where I had found Sheila Dolson’s body the night before. She didn’t seem to want to talk about the house, but it has never been hard to get Anna to talk about her dogs.

I wasn’t just trying to get Anna to relax, although it seemed she did. I needed to shake off some of my own initial hostility. Working on a story, I would have guarded against softening my attitude over anecdotes about pets, but this was not an interview. Talking about Rascal and Devil enlivened her; hearing her stories reminded me of all the reasons I liked her. She was strong and bright and dedicated to doing good work. She was an animal lover. And someone who could look beyond the superficial when dealing with other people.

We finished eating in a more companionable mood. Johnny Smith came by and cleared the plates and asked us if we wanted coffee; she did, I didn’t. Noticing that he was getting a crowd for lunch, when he came back with the coffee I asked if we were tying up his table, but he told us not to worry, a couple of other parties were leaving. He went off to help other customers.

Anna fiddled with the cream and sugar and stirring, then set the spoon aside. It was the starter’s gun, I guess, because the next words out of her mouth were, “You must think I’m the worst judge of character on earth.”

“Are you talking about Sheila or Ben or both?”

“I…I’d rather not talk about Ben. I’ve always hated spending time with a woman who whines about her lover or husband or ex-whatever the case may be. It’s private. It’s like, ‘Hey, come over here and watch me wash my underwear!’ No thanks.”

I smiled. “I understand the sentiment, especially if you’re talking about the people Frank calls ‘town criers,’ because they’re crying about a breakup all over town.”

“Exactly.”

“Still, Anna-it can be tough to go through a breakup alone, whether you’re the one leaving or the one left. Blabbing to strangers is one thing, confiding in one or two trusted friends is another.” I paused. “That said, I guess I’d rather not be your confidante when it comes to Ben.”

“Agreed.” She traced the rim of the saucer again. “If you and Frank are angry with me, or don’t want to have anything more to do with me, I’ll understand.”

“No need to draw a treaty up over it, is there?”

“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s not a war.”

She gave a little shake of her head, took a sip of coffee, and said, “I misjudged Sheila. Ben suspected her of being a liar, and he was right. I admit that in some ways she was…”

“A fake?”

She flinched. “I don’t know. I guess so. When I saw the newspaper this morning, I called Ben, and he told me that Sheila probably planted the teeth she supposedly found yesterday.”

I didn’t say anything-I was distracted by the fact that she had called Ben. Maybe this breakup was only temporary.

“It was a horrible shock, reading the story,” she said absently, apparently caught up in her memories of seeing the front page. “It was a bad way to find out what had happened.”

“I found out in a bad way myself.”

She looked up at me, eyes widening. “I’m sorry-of course it was. I didn’t mean that as a criticism. I mean, I know Ben thought you owed us-him-a call, but that’s nonsense. You were probably exhausted by the time you got home.”

“Yes. It was a long night.”

“The article said it didn’t look like a robbery?”

I hesitated. Something in her manner struck me as being a little sly. Or maybe I simply trusted her less because she had dumped Ben. Still, I was uneasy. Not knowing where the conversation was headed, I answered cautiously. “No. At first I thought we might have interrupted one in progress, but the police seem to have ruled that out. She didn’t own much of value, and the dog would have deterred most prowlers.”

“Altair was crated, though.”

“I wanted to ask you about that-was he usually crated at night? There were a couple of dog beds in the house.”

“She told me she crated him in the evenings. Most of the time, whenever I was at the house, it was during the day and he was loose. She told me she also used the crate during the day when she had to leave him alone, which wasn’t often.”

“Why crate him, then?”

“Well…like a lot of energetic, smart dogs who begin to feel bored if they’re left alone too long, Altair can entertain himself in ways that are not appreciated by most humans.” She smiled. “Sheila told me he has a real knack when it comes to opening kitchen cabinets and refrigerator doors.”

I began to wonder if I should call home.

“She also used the crate for transport,” Anna went on. “Or for search situations when there were a lot of other dogs around.”

“In any case,” I said, “a robber wouldn’t know that Altair was in a crate until after he was in the house, right? Most wouldn’t take that chance.”

“No…”

“Look, Anna, do you know if Sheila had any enemies here in town?”

“Other than Ben?”

“Not being her blind follower doesn’t make him her enemy,” I said tightly.

“No, of course not. For God’s sake, I’m not suggesting he would have harmed her. That’s not even in Ben’s nature. She saw him as an enemy, though, I think.”

“Maybe so. Anyone else?”

“No, and even though I spent quite a bit of time around her, she never complained to me that anyone was mad at her.”

I found myself wondering if Sheila was capable of perceiving that someone was angry with her. She had always seemed self-absorbed. Even Altair was a way to get attention for herself.

“You said you spent a lot of time around her?”

“Well…not blaming him for it, but Ben has been gone a lot lately. Sheila was good company.”

I couldn’t imagine it. “What did you talk about?”

She hesitated. “I guess a lot of it was made up. Based in truth to some degree. Your story has made me face that today. She hadn’t been married, so it was her mom who was the battered woman, not her. And what she told me about losing her house in a fire-that was about her mom’s death, too. I don’t think she ever had a child who got lost-although maybe she felt as if she was the lost child.” She paused. “I guess the autopsy will show whether or not she had cancer.”

“Let me guess. She told stories, and you listened in amazement.”

“It’s true-she misled all of us.”

It occurred to me that I might not have been the first person to figure out that Sheila was a liar. Maybe Sheila had cheated someone out of money, or scammed someone in a more serious way. “Okay, let’s look at this another way-who were her friends?”

“She didn’t have that many. I think all her friends were in the SAR group. I never heard her talk about anyone else.” She frowned. “In retrospect, we kind of adopted her, and she seemed to have been very dependent on us, if you know what I mean. She wasn’t someone who liked to be alone. She got people in the group to help her with things all the time. One of our team members all but gave her that place to live. People invited her over for supper.”