“I’m not sure,” Freeman said, after a pause. “I’ll have to research that. But just in case, leave word with Lotty or your tiresome neighbor to call me if you don’t show up when you’re expected. And for once in your own tiresome, ornery life, Victoria, check in with someone once a day until this blows over. Otherwise, Contreras will be on the phone with me and I’ll be billing new hours to your outstanding balance. Which is not small as it is. Agreed?”

“Copy that, Houston.” Nothing would bring Mr. Contreras more pleasure than to baby-sit me. Few things would bring me less, but Freeman was right. There are days when it’s better to be pliant.

I tried Amy Blount next. When I got her voice mail, I phoned the client at the Drake. Harriet Whitby was in her room.

“When I saw the report on TV this morning, I wondered, well, were you out at Larchmont because of Marc or because of the terrorist?” she asked. Every time someone referred to Benjamin Sadawi as a terrorist, he changed from a scared kid hiding in an attic to a bearded monster in a Yasser Arafat scarf. But if I started saying, no, he’s not a terrorist, he’s just terrified, then I’d have to explain that I’d seen him, and I couldn’t do that. “Your brother’s affairs took me out to Larchmont; I was looking in the pond where he drowned to see if he might have dropped something. He did, in fact: his pocket organizer. I’ve sent it to a lab to dry it out and extract any documents.”

A woman was waiting to use the phone, looking ostentiously at the clock above the dryers. I held up my thumb and forefinger to say, only a little longer.

“While I was out at Larchmont, I found the kitchen door open, I went in to see whether anyone was inside, and the sheriff’s excitement kept me out there longer than I hoped. I think I know who your brother was visiting in New Solway, but it doesn’t bring me any closer to how he ended in that pond.”

“Dr. Vishnikov called this morning,” Harriet said. “Your funeral director delivered Marc’s body to his-his place. But he wanted to warn me before he started what it would cost, and that I might find out, I don’t know, things I wouldn’t want to know. He terrified me, but, then, what could be more terrible than Marc’s death?” Her voice was raggedy, the voice of someone who’d had to talk to too many people about too many difficult things lately.

“Dr. Vishnikov is just being cautious. I’ll call him, tell him if he feels like being responsible to the client, do it through me, not you. And to get started-we’ve already lost a week on this. I can think of a lot of things one wouldn’t want to know about a beloved family member, but, frankly, I can’t picture your brother doing any of them-you know, running a prostitution ring or dealing drugs, that kind of activity doesn’t fit with the man whose house I saw yesterday morning.”