“A setup makes no sense,” Win said, “and yet it has to be a setup of some kind, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Myron said. “Or it doesn’t.”

“Deep.”

“In short,” Myron said, “we still don’t know what the hell is going on.”

Win smiled. “You’d think we’d be used to that by now.”

They were ten minutes away from Brooke’s when Win said, “Take a right.”

“Where?”

“Union Avenue.”

“Where are we going?”

“Bear with me. Park here.”

The name of the shop selling “Organic Coffee & Crêpes” was CU Latte. Myron frowned at the pun. Win loved it.

“What are we doing here?”

“A little surprise for you,” Win said. “Come on.”

The barista wore a hipster beanie and fungus-like facial hair. His poncho had to be made from hemp.

CU Latte was all in.

They ordered two Turkish coffees and sat down.

“What’s going on?”

Win checked his phone and pointed to the door. “Now.”

Myron looked at the door as Zorra entered in all his sartorial splendor. He wore his Veronica Lake–on–meth wig, a green monogrammed sweater, and a skirt in a hue Zorra would undoubtedly call “sea foam.”

When Zorra spotted Myron, he spread his arms and shouted, “Dreamboat!”

Zorra’s wig was half on, half off. His facial hair would make the barista even greener, though this time with envy. Myron remembered an old clip his father had shown him of Milton Berle in drag. Like that, only less attractive.

“I thought he was in Finland,” Myron muttered to Win as Zorra approached.

“He just landed at Newark,” Win said.

“Long flight,” Zorra said. “Zorra had no time to freshen up. I must look a fright.”

Myron wasn’t about to touch that one. He rose and gave Zorra a hug. He smelled like a male flight attendant’s cologne.

“How long has it been?” Zorra asked.

“Too long,” Myron said. Or maybe not long enough.

“Zorra is happy to see you.”

“Same,” Myron said. Then, getting back on track, he asked, “So what’s the deal with Vada Linna?”

“Her new name is Sofia Lampo.”

“Did you find her?”

“She works at a fast-food restaurant, dreamboat. In a small town outside Helsinki. How you say—the middle of nowhere. So I went there. But her boss said she hasn’t shown up for work for three days. This concerned Zorra. So I do some research. She’s not home either. I make some calls. You know. Old contacts. They can find anything.”

“So did you find her?” Myron asked.

Zorra smiled. It was not a pretty smile. “Very soon, dreamboat.”

“I’m not following.”

“Yesterday Sofia Lampo took a plane from Helsinki to Newark. She’s here, dreamboat. Vada Linna—or Sofia Lampo—is back.”

* * *

“Let’s start with the obvious question,” Myron said when he and Win were back in the car. “Why would the au pair come back to the United States?”

“What have we told ourselves since this all began?”

“That something isn’t right,” Myron said. “That we’re missing something.”