Leo noted that she did not look as engaged in the march as those around her, a young girl lost in the bustle. Yolande asked, with genuine curiosity:

—Your wife was Raisa Demidova?

Leo nodded.

—She did not kill Jesse Austin.

Yolande smiled kindly, like a benevolent schoolteacher.

—I know that. So does everyone who lives round here. No one in Harlem thinks your wife killed anyone, Mr Demidov. This neighbourhood might be the one place in the world where she’s innocent. Certainly my father didn’t believe it, not for one second. The press ran the story about how your wife was Jesse’s lover. The lie became truth. There was gossip and slander, written up as journalism, maybe they knew the truth and were too scared to print it. Can’t blame a person for that. Either way, the whole thing was forgotten a few months later and now it’s a scandal most people can’t put a name to. The strange thing was that your wife received a great deal of sympathetic coverage. People said it wasn’t her fault. They said she’d been duped. That all she wanted was to escape Soviet Russia, she’d been promised a life in America. She was distraught when she realized she’d have to go back. That lie flattered America. I suppose that’s why it was such a smart lie to tell.

Nara translated. Yolande was content to sit and watch Leo’s reaction. When Nara had finished, Yolande took down a photograph of her father working in the restaurant, handing it to Leo.

—I was fourteen years old when Jesse was shot. It changed my life, not because I knew the man but because it changed my father. Up until then he ran this restaurant and ran it well. He was a businessman to his bones. After Jesse’s murder, he became an activist, organizing speeches and rallies, printing leaflets. I hardly ever saw him. The restaurant got into trouble. It became a place to debate. Lots of customers stopped coming here, scared of being seen in case they were labelled a radical. Those who weren’t afraid, those who worked with my father, took free meals in payment for their services. Money ran short. Politics got him into trouble with the law: they almost closed the restaurant down. They sent inspectors who said the kitchens were dirty, which was a lie because I used to clean them myself.