“What’re we supposed to do about money? People have been handing me twenties at random intervals. I put them in this.” Roy flapped a plastic bag in front of her. “I didn’t give them any change.”

“Seems reasonable.” Peaches hadn’t discussed such particulars with Elizabeth. The basement was Elizabeth’s priority. The bar itself was a vanity project or an experiment of some sort. It reminded Peaches of the coffeehouse at Oberlin. People wandered in to bake cookies and vegan muffins and make flavored coffee or herbal tea and would wind up doing improv or playing the guitar. Money was not the point. The point was to bring people together and see what happened.

The bar was getting crowded now. Peaches followed Elizabeth’s instructions and put on music—the Rolling Stones, Duran Duran, Prince, Wham, Beyoncé, and the Go-Go’s—to jumpstart the karaoke mood.

Neither she nor Roy could locate a corkscrew. There was a drawer full of pink plastic flamingos and a drawer full of tea candles. There was a box full of what looked like brown M&Ms and a box full of mousetraps. And there was a wooden container that had once held a wheel of French Brie but now was full of extra buttons.

“Tupper?” Roy called to Elizabeth’s useless husband, drinking pint number four of Guinness at the end of the bar.

Elizabeth had warned Peaches that Tupper was a lightweight and would soon be very drunk. He would drink out of frustration, Elizabeth said. Peaches felt sorry for him. If she were married to Elizabeth she’d drink too much too.

“Come back here and help us, would you?”

Tupper stood up and came around the bar. “I installed a Macaw.” He pointed at the large white ceramic bird perched between two bottles of Cîroc vodka. “She’s around here somewhere,” he told them grimly. “She’s just being coy.”

Roy smiled a sort of fatherly, patronizing smile, as if he didn’t believe what Tupper said was true but didn’t want to discourage him.

“What exactly does the Macaw do?” Peaches asked.

“His masterpiece.” Roy patted Tupper’s shoulder. “It hides surveillances devices and wires. He puts a camera in it connected to an app on his phone so he can spy on his wife’s comings and goings. Except she never comes.”

Tupper sighed. “She mostly goes.”

Peaches admired his navy-blue silk tie. He clearly didn’t want to be underdressed when Elizabeth finally decided to return. It was sweet.

“She’s definitely around,” she assured him. “She set all this up. She even cleaned the bathroom.” She wasn’t giving any of Elizabeth’s secrets away. She was just trying to be nice.

Tupper checked his phone, then tucked it into his back pocket. “No one’s allowed downstairs,” he said firmly.

Peaches could tell he was very tempted to go down there and kick in the door.