I told him not while I was playing, which of course had never been a strict policy of mine, but he didn’t have to know that.

Vera came over to us, giving me my best chance to show off. She’d opted that evening for a cellophane-cloth frock that look like liquid gold. Its puffy short sleeves heightened the shock of her décolletage. Vera shook hands all around and took my guests’ names and compliments in stride.

“What a lovely little dress that is,” Vera said to Gail. “Didn’t I see you and Ray having drinks after the show last week?”

Martha looked at me with her usual hatred, and I said solely for her benefit the otherwise meaningless “Yes, that was before I’d met Martha here and got to know more about everyone.”

Russ planted his feet a little wider apart, as apparently his part of the room was experiencing a slight yaw. “It would be my pleasure to buy you some champagne, Miss Driscoll.”

Vera said, “Well, that’s very kind of you. You could have it delivered to the Olympic Hotel in Seattle, where we’re next playing, only make sure they mark the crate ‘Fragile.’ Ray, a word with you?”

I excused myself and followed Vera, who eventually halted by the ballroom’s exit. Reviewing the contents of her pocketbook, she said in the most casual voice, “Ray, I’m going away for a few days. I wanted you to be the one to let Jack know I’ll rejoin him in Seattle, that I’m fine, but that I need a break.”

Suddenly Dave Wooster’s story about his ailing father sounded a lot less Samaritan, or even credible.

“Vera, you’re going to San Diego, aren’t you? Don’t do this to Jack. It’s going to be so obvious. Dave left today, you leave tomorrow—”

“Tonight, actually. Right now. I’m catching the last train out of Emeryville.”

“But it’s the band’s last weekend here. You’re a draw, Vera, you can’t skip out.”

“Just have Jack tell the crowd what I tell him every night before we go to sleep—that I’m indisposed.”

I sighed. “And why am I the one who has to tell him this?”

“Because you feel bad for Jack, so you’ll make up a good story. He might even buy it coming from you.”

“Give Dave my regards,” I said.

She shrugged. “Could have been you, Ray. You should see what I’m not wearing under this dress.” She started to leave but added in a low voice, “And you think I make nice sounds when I sing.”

She left the ballroom and I walked back to Russ Hewett’s table. “So, Ray, tell me,” Gail asked, “did the Swing parts get done?”