I said, "Thanks. Anything you want to tell me about Elise?"

"From what I hear, she's just like her sister."

"How so?"

"Hot-pants, thinks she's an intellectual, lies like a convict. My family's been running one of the best crab joints in Baltimore for sixty years. Listen to Sandy, it's a greasy spoon, I'm imposing by wanting her to occasionally help out."

"Hot-pants," I said.

Frank Stuehr said, "I'm not talking fashion, that's an old-fashioned expression for slut. Okay, you want to know something about Elise--and Sandy? Both of them got bothered by their old man. Know what I mean?"

"Molested."

"That's another word for it."

"Sandy talked about that?"

"Only once, when she was in one of her weepy moods, wanted me to put my arm around her or something. After that, nothing, like it never happened in the first place. Only other time I raised the topic was when Sandy and me tried mediation. She was making a play to steal a big chunk of the Cooker and that really pissed me off so I put forth the case she was morally turpitude. Spelled it out. She gets up, walks around the table, smacks me wham across the face. That ended mediation, she screwed herself, the judge didn't look kindly on her. You find her, don't give regards."

"What kind of guy was the father?"

"He died before I met Sandy, but I hear he was a run-around. That's what people said in the neighborhood. Outward, he was respectable, never met a Mass he didn't like. Principal of a school, top of that. I'd love to hear his confession. A virtuous father don't turn out two sluts."

"Sandy was promiscuous?"

"Sandy was a slut. Never stopped banging other guys the whole time we were married. Out at night all the time, I was a dumb-ass, believed those stories about Scrabble club, bridge, gardening."

"Same for Elise?"

"Elise once came on to me. Sandy was in the kitchen, Elise makes a grab for my you-know-what. I look at her like are you out of your mind, she pretends it never happened. They're both good at that. Pretending."

"What was their mother like?"

"Also dead by the time I met Sandy. Sandy never talked about her, like she didn't exist."

"At what school was the father principal?"

"Some black public school, I don't know."

"What was his name?"

"Cyrus Freeman," he said. "Ph.D., Sandy kept reminding me of that, how she'd lowered herself marrying a guy with only one year at Towson. Meanwhile, she's screwing half the population of Baltimore and spending my money like she's a member of Congress."

S. Freeman Stuehr was listed in the Santa Barbara book. Her voice-mail message was warm and friendly, offered in a voice as silky as her ex's was ragged.