What a good wife, letting herself believe her husband was the innocent victim of bad advisers. But I wasn’t going to ride her: she had gone out on a long limb for me with no reason for doing so. I asked her what made her put in a word for me with her husband.

She looked at me for the first time. “Do you know that the only money I’ve ever worked for was exercising horses for people when I was a teenager? I love my life and I love my husband, but I’ve often wondered what I would do if he—and my own family—lost everything. Would I be able to cut my own path, the way you have? Helping you out is like—like—”

“A sacrifice to the gods to keep them from putting you to the test?” I suggested when she fumbled for words.

She flashed a radiant smile. “That’s it exactly. What a beautiful way of phrasing it! But in the meantime, if you hear from Robbie, send him home. Even if he’s not always happy there, his parents really have his best interests at heart. And I don’t think you can win against BB. He’s too big, and he has too many powerful friends.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I hesitated over my words before speaking again, then said, “Mrs. Trant, you’ve gone out of your way to help me. So I don’t like putting you on the spot. But have you noticed whether any of—well, the men you see socially, BB or Poilevy for instance—would you notice if one of them had lost a medallion from a Ferragamo shoe?”

“What a strange question. I suppose that means you must have found one? Where, I wonder? Are you allowed to tell me?”

“In the street near where Nicola Aguinaldo—the Baladines’ old nanny—died.”

She smiled again but without the radiance. “It’s not the kind of thing I notice, I’m afraid. Now—I’d better take off. It’s an hour on the Ike this time of day, and we’re entertaining some studio execs. I’ll certainly pay special attention to everyone’s feet tonight. Don’t forget about Robbie, will you? He should be at home.”

That seemed to be my exit line. I thanked her for her warning. And for trying to help my little agency. Maybe that was why Baladine hadn’t murdered me, I thought as I went back into my office. Maybe Teddy had told him that Abigail would be upset if they killed me. She knew about the shoe, though. I was willing to bet my meager pension plan on it.

Chapter 29: Help Me, Father, for I Know Not What I’m Doing

29 Help Me, Father, for I Know Not What I’m Doing