“They don’t have a menu. Someone will come in and ask us about what we like and don’t like, and how many courses we want. The food is incredible, I promise.” I looked around the room, wondering if it was bugged. It was a paranoid thought, the kind of thing that my mother used to ramble about when she was drunk, which was pretty much always. You can’t trust people, she would whisper, even if you think they’re your friends. Claudia had complained many times of Tariq meddling in her life and I wondered if he would stoop to spying on her. Or on me.

“Tariq’s doin’ pretty well for himself, ain’t he?” said Jesse, interrupting my thoughts. “What kind of business is he in, besides restaurants?”

“Import-export, as far as I know.” Claudia had made some references that hinted at a smuggling operation. I’d first suspected drugs, specifically the kind pressed out of poppyseed pods, but when I’d pressed my sister, she’d whispered priceless antiques in a reverential way that was unusual for her. Still, Jesse was right about Tariq carrying a gun, and I didn’t know any antiques dealers who did that.

“Right, I think he told me that once. He talked a lot more about polo. He was very up on polo.”

“Polo is still a big deal in Pakistan,” I pointed out. “At least in some circles.”

“Oh, those wacky colonials. What else d’you know about him?”

I struggled to remember details that I hadn’t cared much about when Claudia had originally shared them. “He’s from a rich family. British father, Pakistani mother. He’s an only child. I think his parents divorced when he was very young. He went to school in Britain, but I can’t remember whether it was Oxford or Cambridge.”

“How come you’re blushin’?”

“Me? It’s hot in here. Don’t you think so?” It was a little warm, but Jesse was right. Claudia overshared everything about her personal life, and I squirmed at the recollection of an anecdote about Tariq, a private paddock, and a riding crop.

Dinner was delicious but awkward, with me fending off Jesse’s more incisive questions while biting into spicy meat dishes. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Tariq would be the one person who would know what was going on with Claudia. They had a history together that ran almost a decade. Still, when I’d spoken to my sister over the summer, she’d mentioned that she’d barely seen Tariq lately. I’d long ago learned not to make any bets based on what rolled off a junkie’s tongue.