Shit, this is fun, I thought. "Were you close to him?"

"I liked him, but I can't say we were close. Why?"

I retrieved my wine and took a sip. "He gave someone a little red book. I'm trying to figure out who."

"What sort of book?"

I shrugged. "Addresses, telephone numbers. Small, bound in red leather, from what he said."

She suddenly began to blink at me. "You're not still investigating," she said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement tinged with disbelief.

"Why not?"

"Well, the boy is dead. What difference could any of it possibly make?"

"If he was murdered, it makes a difference to me," I said.

"If he was murdered, it's a matter for the police."

I smiled. "The cops around here love my help."

Sufi looked over at Glen, lowering her voice. "I'm sure she wouldn't want this pursued."

"She didn't hire me. Bobby did. Anyway, why do you care?"

She seemed to catch the danger in my tone, but it didn't worry her much. She smiled thinly, still superior.

"Of course. I didn't mean to interfere," she murmured. "I just wasn't sure what your plans were and I didn't want Glen upset."

I was supposed to make comforting noises back to her, but I just sat there and stared. A bit of color rose in her cheeks.

"Well. It's been nice seeing you again." She got up and wandered over to one of the remaining guests, engaging in conversation with a pointed turning of her back. I shrugged to myself. I wasn't sure what she'd been up to. I didn't care either, unless it pertained to the case. I glanced over at her, speculating.

Soon after, almost at a signal, people started getting into their good-bye behavior. Glen stood by the archway to the living room, being hugged, having her hands pressed in sympathy. Everyone said the same thing. "You know we love you, sweetie. Now you let us know if we can do anything. "

She said "I will" and got hugged again.

Sufi was the one who actually walked them to the door.

I was on the verge of following when Glen caught my eye. "I'd like to talk to you if you can stay on for a while."

"Sure," I said. I realized for the first time that I hadn't seen Derek for hours. "Where's Derek?"

"Taking Kitty back to St. Terry's." She sank into one of the couches, slouching down so she could rest her head on the back. "Would you like a drink?"

"Actually, I could use one. Shall I fix you one while I'm at it?"

"God, I'd love it. There's a liquor cabinet in my den if we're low out here. Make it Scotch. Lots of ice, please."