I said, “Don’t worry, he didn’t, like I said, he’s a man of discretion. And he never told anyone. Until he told me. Because I really am a good psychologist and I know how to ask the right questions. And”—rubbing my thumb and forefinger together—“I know how to provide what we call positive reinforcement.”

She muttered something.

“What’s that, Leona?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh, Leona, coming from someone whose view of morality can be thought of as blurred? To be charitable.”

“So what?” she said, facing me. “She was an adult, got amply compensated, no one got hurt, it kept us whole and healthy and intimate with each other. So what?”

“If that was the end of it, we wouldn’t be talking, Leona. But she turned up dead and I watched your movies and learned that you knew your way around a gun. I’m not talking Actors Studio nonsense. Your relationship with firearms was real and intense and borderline erotic. I believe you could go upstairs and bring down that Glock and finish me off with one shot. But you won’t. Because you’re smart. Because you being a gun gal isn’t the important insight. That one I got from your costar.”

A hand rose to her lips, cupped around her chin, and squeezed hard enough to turn the surrounding skin rosy.

“The inevitably wooden Stu Bretton, Leona. He really did stink as an actor but what makes him fascinating has nothing to do with technique. It’s his striking resemblance to someone.”

The facial tic slid down to her torso, eels running riot beneath her skin. Her entire body shook. Her head bowed.

I said, “Stu was a big guy, beefy, handsome, that nice head of thick, wavy dark hair. Which describes your son Phil to a T. As a matter of fact, Phil could be Stu Bretton’s clone. The timing fits: Phil was born a year after Death Is My Shadow was filmed. Nothing unusual about a leading lady bedding her leading man, it happens all the time. What makes Phil’s paternity interesting is that he’s got a twin who’s the spitting image of Mark. Now, how could that be, Leona?”

She buried her face in both hands.

I said, “Big puzzle, but here’s where my training paid off. Take a look at this.”

I held out the same faculty card I’d flashed at Magda.

She did nothing at first, finally spread her fingers, peered through.

“I may be a whore, Leona, but I’m a highly educated whore and working as a med school professor has exposed me to all sorts of interesting things. The incredible fixes people get themselves into. You know what I’m talking about.”

She began breathing hard.

I said, “Superfecundation.”

Her shoulders heaved. She moaned.