"No, no. That's fine. Maybe it will give me something new to think about. I do want you to find out who killed him. It may be the only form of relief I can look forward to. What have you come up with so far?"

"Not a lot. I'm putting it together piece by piece and I'm not really sure of my facts. For one thing, I may have people lying to me, but since I don't really know the truth, I can't be sure," I said.

"I understand."

I hesitated, oddly reluctant to pass on my conjecture. It felt intrusive to speculate about his past, in poor taste somehow to discuss the intimate details of his life with the woman who was trying so hard to cope with his death. "I think Bobby was having an affair."

"That's not surprising. I think I mentioned that he was dating someone."

"Not her. Nola."

She stared at me as though waiting for the punch line. Finally, she said, "You can't be serious."

"From what I've heard, Bobby was having an affair with someone and he fell in love. That's why he broke up with Carrie St. Cloud in the first place. I have reason to believe it was Nola Fraker, though I haven't confirmed it yet."

"I don't like that. I hope that's not true."

"I don't know what to tell you. It seems to fit the facts."

"I thought you said he was in love with Kitty."

"Maybe not 'in love.' I think he loved her a lot. That doesn't mean he acted on it. She claims there was nothing going on between them and I tend to believe her. If they'd had a sexual relationship, I'm sure you'd have been the first to know – for the shock value if nothing else. You know how she is. She's obviously immature and confused and he was certainly aware of your attitude toward her. Anyway, whatever he felt for her wouldn't have precluded an involvement with someone else."

"But Nola's happily married. She and Jim have been here dozens of times. There was never even a hint of anything between her and Bobby."

"I hear what you're saying, Glen, but that's the way the game is played. You're having a clandestine affair. You and your lover end up at the same social event and walk around chatting politely, ignoring each other... but not too pointedly because that would be conspicuous. Sly little hand touches by the punch bowl, secret glances across the room. It's a big hot joke and later you giggle about it in bed like a couple of kids because you put one over on the grown-ups."

"But why Nola? The whole idea is ludicrous."