"First year of retirement. They found his body on the sidewalk, two blocks from his house. His pants pockets were turned inside out, his wallet was gone, and he was lying facedown with a hole in the back of his head. There was certainly no shortage of muggings in the neighborhood, that part of West Baltimore had changed since he was a boy, he was the last white man standing. Not that it stopped him from taking his nightly walks. Denial, I guess. Or plain old arrogance."

"How did Elise react to his murder?"

"Neither of us talked about it and we had his body cremated. I'd like to think part of her was happy. If she allowed herself to get in touch with her feelings."

"Part of her?"

"There was probably sadness. Even I occasionally feel that, crazy as it is. He did make me breakfast every morning for fifteen years. Combed my hair until I was eleven. Everyone said he was a wonderful, nurturing man."

Milo said, "You and Elise never talked at all about his murder."

"Not a word. In his will, he asked to be buried next to Mother. I had one of Frank's busboys toss the ashes into the Chesapeake Bay. Out in back of the Cooker, where the garbage cans are. Can I warm up that coffee for you?"

As we drank, she excused herself, returned with a yellowed newspaper clipping in a plastic sleeve.

Former Principal Murdered.

Milo said, "Could we make a copy?"

"You think it's relevant to Elise's murder? I don't see how it could be."

"I'm sure you're right, Ms. Stuehr, but two murders in one family is worth looking at."

"The Freeman curse?" she said. "You know, last night, when you called and told me what happened to Elise, I actually started thinking about that. Wondering if our family is doomed and I'm next. This morning, I woke up, decided that was stupid superstition, it was time to have a lovely day--you know, don't even bother copying, keep it. I don't know why I held on to it in the first place."

I said, "What you've told us about your father might help explain why Elise made some high-risk choices."

"Such as?"

"She binge-drank."

Sandra Stuehr's eyes got huge. "You're kidding. Are you sure?"

"We are."

"Wow," she said. "I've always thought of her as the moderate one. From the time she turned twenty-one all I got were pompous lectures about the need to control my drinking. We were both attending Blessed, she was a senior, I was a sophomore. Got into partying pretty hard."

"Did you see each other much in college?"

"Not even then. It's a small school but we managed to avoid each other. What did she drink when she binged?"

"Vodka."

"Interesting," said Sandra Stuehr. "Something else we had in common."