They agreed in the end to my terms, but stubbornly insisted they had never crossed the bounds of propriety, let alone the law. The five of us—Mr. Contreras didn’t want to be left out—would meet at the Bank of Lake View at four Monday afternoon. Todd and Chrissie would bring an order from the probate judge showing the termination of their guardianship agreement. And they would have a cashier’s check for thirty thousand, to buy back the Diamond Head bonds.

In exchange, I promised not to mention their role in peddling junk when the federal investigators started asking about U.S. Met. Mr. Contreras and I went home exhausted. We drank a bottle of Veuve Cliquot to celebrate.

The next morning I wondered if our jubilee had been premature. The doorbell rang at nine, just as I was trying to see how much of a workout my stomach could take. The voice at the other end of the squawk box announced itself as Dick Yarborough.

He came up the stairs with Teri, who was ready for a photo layout in a navy Eli Wacs trouser suit, her smooth peach skin perfectly made up. Dick had on the suburban executive’s weekend costume, a Polo shirt, baggy cotton trousers, and a sports jacket.

“Vic—it is all right if I call you that, isn’t it? I feel as though I know you.” Teri stretched out a hand in a gesture of intimacy while Dick lingered in the background.

“Yeah, I feel as though I know you too.” I ignored her hand. “You two want something special? Or am I a stop-off point on a goodwill tour of the poor?”

Dick winced, but Teri gave a faint saintly smile. She sank onto the piano bench and opened her eyes wide at me.

“This is a really hard visit for me to make. Let’s face it: you and Dick were married once, and I know there must still be some feeling between you.”

“But I’d put on a lead shield before getting close enough to examine it,” I said.

“They say that hate is the other side of love,” she announced with the air of someone presenting the law of gravity to first-graders. “But I know—Dick’s told me—that you lost your own father, so I think you can understand my feelings.”

“Peter’s dead?” I was astounded. “It wasn’t in the morning paper.”

Dick made an impatient gesture. “No, Peter’s not dead. Teri’s having trouble getting to the point. She and Peter are very close and she’s afraid she may lose him to a long jail sentence if she can’t persuade you to drop charges.”