“Doing okay, Nick?” Grayton asked. His hair always looks perfect, Addis thought. Straight back. Nothing out of place. Grayton did not take off his jacket. His tie was not loosened.

“Yeah.”

“Mind if we talk?”

“Sure.”

Grayton looked at Stephanie. He was dismissing her. She headed toward the kitchen, from where a series of loud “fucks” was flowing.

“In here?” Grayton asked.

“Where else?”

“It’s cooling down. On the porch?”

He imagined what would be Lancette’s response: one car, driving slowly … .

“I’m fine here.”

Grayton sat on the leather couch. “Looks like Guatemala,” he said, nodding toward the photographs. “Been there. Didn’t have the chance to take snapshots.”

Addis crossed his arms. He resisted the urge to comment on Grayton’s remark. Grayton put his hands on his knees.

“Sorry about Julia, Nick. Very sorry. What were you two doing?”

That was quick.

“Doing?”

“Yes. You went with her to the Kennedy-Warren. You visited the apartment and storage area of a Dr. Charlie Walters. I assume you were there at her initiative. Why?”

You mean, “What do I know?”

“She said she needed something for work.”

“What?”

“She didn’t say. She said she would know it when she saw it.”

“And you were merely her … escort?”

“She said it might make it easier if I came along. It was a favor.”

“And?”

“She showed the guy at the front desk some paper—I think it was a cable—and said she needed to get into her friend’s apartment, to find something for him. She thought if I were there, then …”

“She would be believed?”

“They’d be more inclined to help, I suppose.”

“And you went along with this unorthodox request because … ?”

“What do you think?” Addis replied.

Grayton lifted a small silver dish that was on the coffee table. He turned it around in one hand.

“Did she take anything out of the apartment?”

“Some sweaters.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure. Said she was going to send them to her friend.”

“And from downstairs?”

This is what you want to know. If I know. Can’t lie too much. That would show you I’m in on it. And, anyway, someone’s got the memo already.

“Two notebooks, I think. It was dark.”

Shit, I told the detective they were hers.

“And what was in these notebooks.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Let’s hope there won’t be full and complete coordination between the police and the FBI.

“I don’t know.”

“She didn’t say?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask? Weren’t curious?”

“Well, I thought it would be better if I didn’t.”

“Plausible deniability.”

“I suppose.”

“And you were a bit struck by her?”

Addis did not answer.

“She didn’t explain her interest in Dr. Walters?” Grayton asked.

“Sorry, no. Don’t you know?”

Turn it on him.

“We’re not sure.”

Addis gripped the arms of the rocking chair.