Lila giggled. “Sure, that’s it. Where do you keep your head, Bobo? In the sand or up your ass? They come up here once a month. He’s a big-shot stockbroker in the city, she pretends to be a high-grade socialite. They’re both married. His wife’s a cokehead, her husband’s a Superior Court judge. They have no idea I know who they really are, and I don’t plan on telling them. They tip twenty percent. Anyway, they’ve been pounding on one another for years.” She paused and inhaled deeply. “To be honest, Bobo, I envy them. Most days I think I’d do the same thing if I could find somebody to do it with.” She rolled her eyes at my disapproving frown. “Hey, remember, I’m married to Sammy. The hardest thing about him is his chisel.”

I bit from the chicken and chewed.

“So, how’re the wife and kids?” Lila asked.

I nodded that everyone was fine. The chicken seemed to expand in my mouth.

“That’s good,” Lila said. Then: “How’s the chicken?”

I nodded again.

“That bad, huh? I’ve got to fire that bitch. She stays drunk half the time and tries to sober up the other half. I think I’ll hire a Chinaman and buy him a wok. You can’t screw up stir-fry.”

I swallowed the chicken and took some wine.

“How long you going to be here, Bobo?”

“A week. I hope that’s all it takes.”

Lila brushed an invisible something from her blouse. I could see her breasts shudder. “Don’t like our company, is that it?”

“No, that’s not it, and you know it. I have some things to do, some arrangements relating to my friend’s death, then I’ll have to get back to the classroom.”

Lila adjusted her bra strap with a hitch of her shoulders. “What was his name? I read the story, but I don’t remember.”

“Avrum Feldman.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “I’ve always heard he was crazy.”

“I guess it depends on what you think it means to be crazy.”

“Somebody said he heard voices,” Lila replied.

“He did.”

“I think that’s crazy.”

“And I think it’s a miracle.”

Lila smiled warmly. “You know, Bobo, that’s what I like about you. You could smell roses in a shithouse. God, I’d love to take you to bed.”

“Maybe in our next life,” I said.

“Then I’ll die tonight,” she sighed. “You bastard.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Oh, no big deal,” she replied flippantly. She looked toward the couple at the far end of the dining room. “All I want is to have that expression one more time.”

“What expression?”

“The one on her face. What do you think it is, Bobo?”