“I have nothing to say to you. Get out of here before I call the police.” Her voice came out in a harsh whisper.

“By my guest.” I sat down in a wide armchair upholstered in rust brocade and looked around the large, light room. A Persian rug covered about two thirds of the dark parquet. Gold brocade drapes were looped back from the windows overlooking Astor Street and sheer gauze hung underneath. “The police will be very interested in your role in Boom Boom’s death. Please do call them.”

“They think it’s an accident.”

“But you, dear Paige? Do you think it is?”

She turned her face away, biting her lip.

“Jeannine told me this morning your role was to keep tabs on what my cousin was up to. I thought she meant for her and Clayton. But she wasn’t talking about them, was she? No, you were keeping track of him for Grafalk.”

She didn’t say anything but kept staring at a picture on the west wall as if seeking inspiration from it. It looked like a very good copy of a Degas. For all I knew, it was an original. Even with the losses to the steamship line, Niels Grafalk could afford to give his lover that kind of trifle.

“How long have you been Grafalk’s mistress?”

Spots of color stained her cheeks. “What an offensive remark. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then I’ll have to do the talking. You correct me where I’m wrong. Jeannine and Clayton moved to Lake Bluff five years ago. Niels knew Clayton was fiddling around with Eudora Grain invoices. He promised not to turn him in to Argus if Clayton would start giving Grafalk a preferred position on shipping orders.”

“I don’t know anything about the Grafalk Steamship Line.”

“You and your sister are so pure-minded, Paige. You don’t want to know anything about where your money comes from, just that it’s there to spend when you need it.”

“I scarcely know Niels Grafalk, Vic. I’ve met him socially at my sister’s. If Clayton and he did have some kind of business arrangement, I would be the last person to know about it.”

“Oh, bullshit, Paige. Grafalk owns this condominium.”

“How do you know that?” she demanded, sitting down suddenly on a sofa near me. “Did Jeannine tell you?”

“No, Paige. Your sister kept your secret. But property titles are a matter of public record in Chicago. I was curious about this place, since I suspect Windy City can’t afford to pay you very much. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Grafalk got Clayton to give him preferred customer treatment. In exchange, Grafalk helped pave the way for them socially when they moved back to Lake Bluff. Got them into the Maritime Club and all that good stuff.