I thought about Winston Smith, who’d been fired because of Violet. While Cramer had rehired him the following week, he hadn’t known about that when she vanished. I was iffy about him. He was convinced she’d ruined his life, which in some ways she had. If he’d gotten the education he’d planned, he wouldn’t be selling cars and he might not be married to the woman who now proposed booting his butt out the door.

I knew little about Tom Padgett, but he was worth checking out. Steve Ottweiler? Nah. I put a tick by his name, but only in the interest of being fair. As long as I was suspicious of the other guys, I might as well include him. He’d been sixteen at the time, and from Violet’s point of view, he was probably fair game. However, if the two had engaged in a torrid affair, why kill the golden goose? I added BW’s and Jake’s names to the list.

I kept thinking I’d overlooked something obvious, but I couldn’t think what it was.

I took a break and made myself a peanut butter and pickle sandwich for my supper. I substituted a paper napkin for a plate and thus reduced the dirty dishes to a bare minimum. I was just in the process of washing my knife when the telephone rang.

The woman on the other end of the line said, “This is Anna Ericksen. I believe you left a message on my machine.”

“Are you the Ericksen who once lived at 3906 Land’s End Road in Serena Station?”

There was a cautious silence. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m sorry. I should have explained myself earlier. I’m interested in contacting the family who lived next door to Foley and Violet Sullivan in 1953.”

“That was my parents’ house, where I grew up.”

“Really? Wow, that’s great. I’m lucky you didn’t get married or I’d have never tracked you down.”

“Oh, honey. I’m gay. You couldn’t pay me to get married. I got troubles enough.”

“Do you remember Violet?”

“Not directly. I was a little kid back then, but people have been talking about her for years and years. We lived next door to the Sullivans when I was growing up. I suppose you know they found her buried in her car.”

I said, “So I heard. Look, I know this is a long shot, but is there anything you can tell me about Violet?”

“No, I’m sorry to say I don’t remember her, but I do remember that Fourth of July.”

“You’re kidding. You remember that particular Fourth of July?”