He smiled again. “Poverty is all relative. At any rate, Paige doesn’t want to jeopardize her current standard of living by thinking about anything … too dangerous.”

“How does Mrs. Grafalk feel about the situation?”

“With Paige, you mean? Claire is an admirable woman. Now that our two children are through school she’s thoroughly absorbed in a variety of charities, all of which benefit profoundly by Grafalk backing. They claim the bulk of her attention and she’s just as pleased to have mine diverted elsewhere. She’s never been very interested in Grafalk Steamship either, unfortunately.”

“Whereas it has Paige’s breathless attention? That’s a little hard for me to picture, somehow.”

“You’re sure you don’t want any Armagnac? It’s quite good, really.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” My stomach warned me against putting any more alcohol on top of last night’s St. Émilion.

He poured himself some more. “Paige is in a position where she has to be interested in what interests me. I don’t mind knowing I’ve got her her attention—it’s quite intense and delightful whether bought or volunteered. And I’m afraid the steamship line is the thing I care most about.”

“So much that you killed Phillips and Mattingly, got Phillips to push my cousin off the wharf, and blew up the Lucella Wieser to protect it? Oh yes. I forgot Henry Kelvin, the night watchman in Boom Boom’s building.”

Grafalk stretched his legs out and swirled the brandy in his glass. “Technically, Sandy did most of the damage. Sandy’s my chauffeur and general factotum. He planted the depth charges on the Lucella—quite a diver. He was a frogman in the navy, served on my ship in World War II. When he was discharged I hired him. Anyway, technically, Sandy did the dirty work.”

“But you’re an accessory. The law holds you equally responsible.”

“The law will have to find out first. Right now, they seem extremely uninterested in me.”

“When they have the evidence that Phillips received his head wound here in this lounge their interest will pick up considerably.”

“Yes, but who’s going to tell them? Sandy won’t. I won’t. And you, I’m afraid, aren’t going to be with us when we return to port. So you won’t.”

He was trying to frighten me and succeeding rather well.

“Phillips called you Saturday night after he got my message, didn’t he?”

“Yes. I’m afraid Clayton was cracking. He was a smart enough man in his way, but he worried about details too much. He knew if you told Argus about the invoices his career would be finished. He wanted me to do something to help him out. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could do at that point.”