The man in the scallop-edged black-and-white photo was tall, narrow, fine-featured, with a downy pencil mustache under an upturned nose and pale, downslanted eyes. He wore a cinch-waisted, pin-striped, double-breasted suit, black-and-white wingtips, a polka-dot handkerchief that threatened to tumble from his breast pocket, a soft fedora set slightly askew. He’d been photographed leaning against the swooping front fender of a low-slung, bubble-topped coupe.

“Not the Duesenberg, obviously,” said Felix Monahan. “That’s a Talbot-Lago. Jimmy brought it over from France immediately after the war. It was decaying in some Nazi bastard’s lair, Jimmy rescued it and brought it back to life.”

Grace said, “He was barely out of med school when he enlisted, was assigned to an infantry unit as a field surgeon, served in the Battle of the Bulge, raided Utah Beach. He was injured on D-Day, earned a Purple Heart and a host of other medals.”

“A hero,” said Felix. “The real deal.”

Grace said, “Now, would you like to see Blue Belle? She’s downstairs in the garage.”

As smooth a dismissal as any I’d heard. I said, “She’s here?”

“Why not?” said Felix. “A garage is a garage.”

“Is a garage,” said Grace. “To paraphrase Alice B. Toklas.”

I said, “I’d love to see the car but could we talk a bit more?”

“About what?”

“Your uncle’s medical practice.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. After his wounds healed, he delivered babies.”

“Then he quit,” I said.

“No,” she said, “he retired. Quitting implies a character flaw. Jimmy left medicine because his father, my grandfather Walter, was ill and his mother, my nana Beatrice, was terminal. Someone had to take care of them.”

“Jimmy had no wife or children.”

Quick glances passed between them.

“That’s true,” said Grace. “If you ask me why I’ll tell you I don’t know, it was none of my business.”

“Never met the right woman,” said Felix. “That would be my guess.”

“That’s not what he’s after, darling. He’s looking for dirt on poor Jimmy.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Monahan.”

“No?” she said. “You work with the police, they dig dirt—granted it’s generally for a good cause. You’ve been involved in over a score of very nasty cases, have probably come to see the world as a terrible place. But that doesn’t apply to Jimmy.”

A score. Serious research on her part.

I said, “I’d like to think I keep a pretty balanced view of the world.”

Rosy spots radiated through her makeup. “Forgive me, that was rude. It’s just that I adored Uncle Jimmy. And—I confess to being a bit of a snoop myself, Dr. Delaware. After you called, I inquired about you at Western Peds. We donate there. Everyone had good things to say about you. That’s why we’re talking.” She caught her breath. “If that offends you, I’m sorry.”