“Yeah. Bass player. I’m part of the house band at Smokey’s. Regular gig. Steady income. Not much income, but it’s steady. I mean, what does Liz expect? You know, you start out in this business, thinking you’re gonna be the next Eddie Vedder or Axl Rose. Hell, I’m thirty-four, man. Not too many people break it big at thirty-four. I’m real grateful. to Liz. I mean real grateful Rest of the band’s living in shit, and I got this nice house, a decent car. It’s not a Porsche but it’s no broken-down Honda, either.”

Oliver glanced out the window, at the driveway. A red Miata convertible. “Nice set of wheels.”

“Thanks. Liz bought it for me after Henry was born. Bought herself a baby Benz. I say, right on. She deserves it. She works hard.” His eyes clouded. “Man, I hope she doesn’t lose her job.”

“Was she in danger of losing her job?” Marge asked.

“If she was, she didn’t tell me. She don’t tell me much about work.” Drew smelled himself again. “You want me to take a shower or something?”

Yes, screamed Marge’s brain. Instead, she said, “Nah, we’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Did she ever mention anything about her job being in jeopardy?”

“Jeopardy? Isn’t that a game show?”

“About her job being cut,” Oliver said.

Drew scrunched up his forehead. “Well, she always used to say she was the last person on Sparks’s project. If he was gonna bump anyone, I guess it would be Liz. But I met the old guy couple of times. He seemed to like her. After we ate dinner at his house, I told her that. I told her I thought he liked her. I told her not to worry.”

Marge said, “If you don’t mind my asking, when you ate dinner over there…how did Dr. Sparks react to you?”

“You mean ’cause of the way I look.” Drew rocked in the chair. “Oh, I fixed myself up. I wore a suit and tie, put my hair in a ponytail. I wouldn’t want to do anything that might make Liz lose her job. He was real polite to both of us.”

Drew stopped a moment.

“You know, he was an okay guy. We brought Henry of course. Dr. Sparks said something about how good I was with the little guy. I told him I loved kids. Sparks had a bunch of grandchildren. They started getting antsy at the table, you know, running around like kids do. I just got up and started playing with them. Felt a lot more comfortable with the kids than I did with the grown-ups. Especially when they started arguin’.”

Oliver’s eyes met Marge’s. “Who was arguing?”

“I don’t know. I left the table.”

“Think, Drew,” Marge prodded. “Was it Dr. Sparks and one of his children, Dr. Sparks and his wife—”