Trimble had a look at the phone. “This is one of those new ones,” he said. “It shows who’s called you recently.”

“That’s right. Edward said we should get that, but I don’t think it’s worth the extra money.”

“And you can call up the last ten numbers that have been dialed.”

“I didn’t know that,” Mrs. Mayhew said.

Trimble took a chair across from her, swung the phone around so that it was in front of him. “I’m going to call out some numbers to you and you tell me if you know what they are.”

He did the first one.

“That’s my sister Cleo, in Milwaukee. I called her this evening, to see if she was still coming to visit in April. We’re very close, but we don’t get together as often as we’d like. She married this man, he’s not very nice, he doesn’t like to travel.”

Trimble gave her another number. “That’s Edward’s work,” she said. “I called him around three, but he was out.”

Then another. Mrs. Mayhew shook her head. “That one doesn’t ring a bell.”

Trimble hit the button that would immediately connect him to the number, waited, and then said, “Oh, hello. I was wondering, which Ramada is this? Uh-huh. Okay. I’m trying to track down a friend of mine, we’re supposed to have breakfast together. Do you have an Edward Mayhew registered there?” He nodded. “That’s great. And what room is he in? Thanks very much.”

He hung up the phone, looked at me. “Eddie’s at the Ramada. The one by the airport. I’m guessing he’s booked on a morning flight.”

“What?” said Mrs. Mayhew. “No no, you must have that wrong. Eddie’s not going away! We don’t take separate vacations! We certainly never have! What does he think he’s doing? He’s up at the Ramada, you say? He’s going to get a piece of my mind!”

“Mrs. Mayhew, I’m afraid I can’t have you getting in touch with Eddie right now.”

“That’s ridiculous. Give me that phone.”

Trimble sighed. “Mrs. Mayhew, let’s go back upstairs.”

“What? You can’t stop me from calling my husband.”

“Listen,” I said. I almost said, “Listen, Trimble,” but felt using names in front of Mrs. Mayhew might not be advisable. “Let’s just head out there, it won’t take that long.”

“We can’t have her warning him,” Trimble said.

“What do you mean, warning him?” Mrs. Mayhew demanded to know. “And just who are you people, anyway? I think it’s high time that you answered a few of my questions for a change.”

“Upstairs,” Trimble said, the gentleness gone from his voice. He grabbed Mrs. Mayhew by the arm and started dragging her out of the kitchen.

“Hang on!” I said. “What are you going to do?”