“Why?”

I told her the story Lucas’s mother had told me, and what I had learned from Murray of the new plans for the area.

“You’re saying Ben was dishonest.”

“If Ben knowingly went along with what I suspect happened, yes, I suppose that makes him dishonest. It’s also possible that he unwittingly dealt with some people who were bribing the city manager.”

She gazed out the window again. “If he was involved at all, he would have known. He wouldn’t have been ‘unwitting,’” she said. “Ben wasn’t stupid.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“That’s what that photograph-the second one-is supposed to prove, isn’t it? That Ben was meeting with these people before the redevelopment study was in, right?”

“That photo shows some people on a fishing trip. It doesn’t prove anything, really. The people in the photo are allowed to be friends, to go fishing together. But maybe it represents something else, or was just supposed to hint to Ben and the others that Lucas knew more.”

“You talk as if all Mr. Monroe would be after is a master’s degree. But Ben wouldn’t be the person to approach in that case, would he? If Lucas Monroe had some proof of this collusion, don’t you think it’s more likely that he saw a perfect opportunity to blackmail my husband?”

“Maybe. And if he was blackmailing other people as well, maybe he died because someone didn’t want to pay up. From your point of view, I suppose, it would be comforting to think of Lucas as a villain who got what he deserved. If you just want to accept that as an explanation, with no proof one way or another, then go ahead and take these calendars back.”

She hesitated just long enough for me to begin to regret making rash offers. “No, I want to know the truth,” she said, then added, “I don’t know that you’ll find it in there.”

I let my breath out again and asked, “Did you read them?”

She shook her head. “Not recently.”

“You read them when he wrote them?”

“No, not really. He didn’t hide them from me. Sometimes I would be in here with him as he wrote in them; once in a while he would call from the office, ask me to look something up for him. But they were his notes, and I didn’t feel a need to study them. I preferred to have him talk to me about his day.”

“So they’re business notes?”

“Yes, but not just business notes. Not quite a diary, either. Part business, part diary. I’ll want them back, but take them home with you for now.”

I figured that was a dismissal. I knew I had upset her, and felt bad about that. She had been through enough. I picked up the heavy binders and started to stand up.

“Wait,” she said softly. She wasn’t looking at me, but I could see tears welling up in her eyes. Her hand came up to her lips again, pressing hard, in what I was learning was her gesture of distress.

I sat down, feeling like something that would be happier sunning itself on a rock. “Claire, I’m sorry-”

She waved me to silence. I waited, setting the binders down again.

“Ben would have wanted what was best for the city,” she said slowly, then drew a shaky breath. “He loved Las Piernas. He just wanted it to be a good place to live. Whatever choices he made, he wouldn’t have done anything that would harm Las Piernas.”

I didn’t say anything.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“Are you asking me if I believe that Ben loved Las Piernas? Or are you asking me if I believe he was a saint?”

“I know he wasn’t a saint,” she said. “He was a complex man. I’m not certain of much about Ben anymore, but I’m certain of that.”

“You’re right about how he felt about Las Piernas.”

She lifted a shoulder, as if suddenly she wasn’t so sure.

“Claire, I’m worried about you. Maybe you should get away for a while.”

“I’ll be okay, Irene. This was just a hard day. Tearing down the cabana, thinking that Ben might have been involved in some scam. But this won’t last forever.” She stood up, walked over to a box of tissues, and took about ten of them out in rapid succession. “It’s much harder for someone like me to run away,” she said, tears starting to roll. “Not understanding why Ben did what he did is eating me alive. I knew he hit rough patches, would feel overwhelmed sometimes, even a little blue. But he would always let me comfort him, let me help him. This time, he just shut me out. Left me behind, to face whatever it was he couldn’t face. To be honest, I’m really pissed off at him for that.”

I listened to the ticking of the clock on the fireplace mantel while she cried quietly. When she got to the tenth tissue, she blew her nose in an indelicate trumpeting style, looked up at me, and said, “Thanks, I’m much better now.”

I was about to ask her what she was thanking me for when my beeper went off.

“Damn it all to hell, I thought I had this thing set so it wouldn’t do that,” I said, fumbling through my purse until I found it. After watching me spend another fifteen seconds trying to figure out how to get the sucker to stop making that annoying sound, Claire reached over, took it from me, pressed a button which silenced it immediately, and handed it back. She was smiling.

“Ihate these things!” I said, not a little irked to notice that the number on the display was Wrigley’s direct line at the paper. “Show me how to fix it so it won’t beep.”

She took it back from me, saying, “This type won’t shut off, but I’ll set it so it will vibrate instead of beep. Go ahead and use the phone if you need to make a call.”

“I don’t. It’s that toad, Wrigley, wondering why I didn’t have you page him to join us for lunch.”

“Oh, God, I used to see him at all the charity fund-raisers. What a creep. No wonder you want to shut this thing off. But isn’t he your boss?”

“My boss’s boss. Don’t worry, I didn’t plan to set you up for a lunch date with him.” I paused, then said, “You could help me with a little scheme, though.”

When I explained my plan, she laughed. “I love it. Can I get Aunt Emeline and Alana to help out?”

“Please do,” I said.

I was on my way out of the house when I remembered something else I had been meaning to ask her about. “Claire, are you sure there wasn’t anything else in that first envelope, the one that held the photo of Ben giving Lucas the scholarship check?”

“No, there was nothing else. Why?”

“Lucas’s mother saw him put a typewritten letter into the envelope. Have you come across anything like that?”

“No, I haven’t.” She appeared to be lost in her own thoughts for a moment, then said, “I’ll look more carefully.”

“What were you just thinking?”

“That perhaps Ben burned it that night.”

I wasn’t happy to realize how likely that was. Claire had stopped Ben when he tried to burn the photograph. Lucas’s letter may have already gone up in flames.

ILOOKED AT MY WATCH and realized I’d have to hurry to get to Roland Hill’s offices in time for my appointment. I tried to clear my mind of concerns about June Monroe and Claire Watterson, to think of the best approach to use with Hill if he was as cool and remote as Corbin Tyler. I glanced at the stack of binders on the seat next to me. I would be parking in another parking garage, but still, I didn’t want to leave them out. I didn’t want to take them in with me, either. Risking being late, I pulled over and put them in the trunk. Acting a little paranoid, perhaps, not to do that in the parking garage, but I decided I just didn’t want anyone to see me locking something away.

I was a little more at ease; this was unlike my secret meeting with Tyler. I had told Lydia where I would be, and Hill’s secretary wasn’t being sent home. A state senator’s aide had been instrumental in setting up this appointment. The two meetings would be nothing alike, except that in each case, I might be visiting a killer.

Maybe it was that thought that led me to call Frank from the building’s lobby and leave a voice-mail message. “I’ve got a pager now, Harriman, in case you ever want to literally give me a buzz.” I left the number. “I’m meeting with Roland Hill. See you tonight.”