“Okay.” Lowering his voice the way he does when he’s really fighting anger. “Could you please clarify that?”

“I give her things to do because she said she wanted to help. It’s not an official job.”

“You’re doing her a favor,” he said. “Does she get paid?”

“Minimum wage.”

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you. When did you first meet her?”

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

The woman said, “Meeting is a formal rite, preceded by introduction. She just walked in and said, ‘I could do things around here.’ I’m essentially lazy so I said okay.”

“You own the store.”

“No.”

“Who does?”

“Koichi.”

“Koichi who?”

“Koichi Takahashi.”

“Where can I find him or her?”

“You can find him in Tokyo.”

“Absentee owner.”

“Quite.”

“How does that work?”

“Just fine.”

“I mean—”

She smiled. “I’m funnin’ with you, John Wayne. How does it work? He wanted a store to help his collection, has a rich father who bought the entire block.”

“What does Mr. Takahashi collect?”

“Italian American vocalist CDs.”

“Frank Sinatra.”

“Obviously,” she said. “Also Dean Martin, Perry Como, Lou Monte, Jerry Vale, Vic Damone.”

“A guy sets up a store so he can snag the best stuff?”

Reaching beneath the counter, she brought out a magazine. Peacock blue Japanese characters blazed above a color photo of a young, long-haired man surrounded by walls of compact discs displayed face-out, like paintings. The man’s hair was dyed turquoise. His smile spelled enchantment.

The woman groped a bit and showed us something else. CD, still sealed in factory plastic. Sinatra’s face. Nothing But the Best.

The woman said, “I’m sending him this tomorrow. He’s got fourteen hundred and thirty-seven other copies.”

Milo said, “Quantity and quality.”

“The road to happiness.”

“Unfortunately, Frankie DiMargio’s not happy. She’s not anything unless you include dead.”

The woman’s smile flickered out. She braced herself on the counter. “You didn’t say that.”

Milo said, “Now I have. Let’s start again.”

Act II: Strange conversation.

“You hired Frankie DiMargio.”

“I’m not trying to be a pain, but I can’t really call it that.”

“Hiring’s a formal arrangement.”

“She came and went as she pleased.” A beat. “What happened to her?”

Milo said, “Someone ended her life and my job is to find out who.”

“I hope you succeed.” Sounding like she meant it. “Do you believe in capital punishment? I do. Why should we pay to keep them alive? Maybe you can catch him and torture and kill him so we don’t have to waste taxpayer money.”

Milo studied her.

She said, “I have my opinions.”

“Let’s get back to Frankie. How many hours a week did she spend here?”

“Ten, fifteen tops. I can’t tell you anything about what she did because when she came, I left. She was my excuse to get out of here.”

“Any predictability to her schedule?”