“Being a Yankee is.” A smirk tugged at his mouth. “You got some Yankeeness rubbed back on you when you went home.”

“How would you know?”

“It’s all over your voice.” He was gleaming with good humor now.

“That doesn’t make any sense, either.”

“Of course not.” He leaned back. “But I knew a pointless argument would cheer you up.”

“You really ready to do this?” Detective Ruiz said as she slid my ice water to me. Her tone was apologetic, but her face remained dubious. “I hope so. I can’t handle more ‘emergency meetings’ with Janis. I want to be done.”

I told the detective I would work the week at the Westing and then we could reevaluate to see what information Ray and I had. “I have a freelance assignment that I’m also—” I started to say, wanting to name-drop the actress.

But the detective was already launching into an explanation about eavesdropping and wiretapping, and how neither Ray nor I could use a mic to record other people’s conversations unless an official felony law enforcement case was involved. I would not use any devices unless I got her permission.

“Okay?” she said.

I nodded. Ray nodded. Then Ray told me about the people I’d be observing. He described a close-knit group that had traveled to London last fall to premiere Hal’s Westing show: two men, Pearson Winters and Erik Reidl, and three women, Layla Goetz-Middleton, Zania de Wilde, and Brenae Brasil. A few significant facts lodged with me: Layla and Erik had been a romantic couple on and off for a year. Pearson had had a prior felony: an assault on another man. Zania was the gallerist’s daughter. All four were willing to talk with Ray today.

“Any questions?” he concluded. “The interviews start at four o’clock.”

“Does Hal know they’re participating?” I asked.

“No,” said Ray.

“Do you think any of them know about the video, or why it was erased?”

“Not sure. We’ll find out what we can,” said Ray. “I’m going to show it to each of them.”

I tried to imagine the students’ reactions when Ray approached them. They must have been wounded by Brenae’s death, or they wouldn’t have agreed. I wondered what they’d think of being spied on. I didn’t feel sorry for them, but I wished they understood the stakes of what they’d see and might say.

“Are we good?” the detective said, looking at Ray. “I have a mountain of paperwork at the office.”

Before Ray could speak, her phone buzzed and she looked at the number. “Janis.” She sighed. “Didn’t you tell her to call you from now on?” she asked Ray.

He shrugged. “Yeah, but the problem is, she likes you better.”

She answered the phone and then handed it to me. “Last instructions,” she said.

I took it gingerly and said hello.