“I became Mr. Mom,” said Bradley. “Not my finest hour, I’m finally bringing in a paycheck again. Poor Adriana, I can’t believe anyone would hurt her. Was it a random thing? ’Cause it’s not like she traveled the fast lane.”

“No partying?” I said.

“Her? She made us look like night-lifers and trust me, we’re not.”

Susan said, “She had her evenings to herself but never went out. All she wanted to do was read and watch TV and crochet. She made three lovely blankets for Lucas. Oh, God, he’d be so sad if he knew.”

Milo said, “Did Adriana have any friends?”

“None that we ever met.”

Bradley said, “She actually told me her best friend was Lucas.”

Susan said, “She and Lucas really bonded. She had great instincts, could get down and play at his level. He still asks about her. Letting her go wasn’t easy.”

“How’d she react to that?”

Bradley said, “No drama, it was like she’d expected it. I’d been bitching for a while about the company having problems.”

Susan said, “To tell you the kind of person she was, we offered her an extra month’s severance. She refused to take it, said we needed it to tide ourselves over.”

I said, “That’s pretty close to saintly.”

Bradley said, “You could describe her as saintly. That’s why it doesn’t make sense, someone killing her.”

Susan said, “Maybe not, Brad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Saints get martyred.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I guess so.”

I said, “Any idea who’d want to martyr Adriana?”

“Of course not,” said Susan. “We haven’t been in touch for over a year.”

“Do you know who she went to work for?”

“Of course,” she said. “The Changs.”

“You know them?”

“No, but Adriana gave us their address so we could forward mail. They’re doctors.”

“Better financial bet,” said Bradley.

Milo said, “Did she get much mail for forwarding?”

“Actually, not a single piece. Even when she lived here it was just junk—coupons she gave to us. Oh, yeah, she also got occasional correspondence from her church back in Idaho.”

Susan said, “Tabernacle Something. I guess she was a fundamentalist. But it’s not like she was heavy-handed, some kind of Jesus freak.”

“Did she find a church in Portland?”

“She went every Sunday,” she said. “Ten to noon, that’s the only time she left for any stretch. Can’t tell you where the church was, though, because we never asked and she never said.”

“Anything else you think would help us?”

Bradley said, “Sue?”

Susan said, “No, sorry.”

Milo said, “How about the address in La Jolla?”

Susan said, “Hold on, I’ll find it.”

Seconds later, she was reading off the P.O.B. Milo had just called.

He gestured obscenely. “One more question: Did you find Adriana through an agency?”

“Nope,” said Bradley, “through an ad we ran in the paper.”