I went into the bathroom on the left, locked the door, and pulled out my cell phone. Jesse wasn’t home, so I dialed my voicemail. There were two hang-ups followed by a message. “Lily, it’s Melissa. I found the name of the place Claudia wanted me to go to. It’s called ‘Idylhaven’ and here’s the phone number.” She rattled off a series of digits, with an area code I didn’t recognize. “Would you let me know when you find Claudia? I’d like to know she’s okay.”

Whether it was the twenty-dollar bills or her own conscience flaring to life, Melissa had come through after all. I listened to her message a couple of times. I’d never heard of Idylhaven, and I didn’t recall Claudia mentioning it. She had been to rehab centers before, and I’d given the names to the police along with those of her friends. This would be a new one to check out.

When I came out of the bathroom I washed my hands as if everything were fine. In the mirror I saw how flushed my face was, even in the dim light. Why would Martin lie to me about his calls to Claudia, or about California rehab centers? Had some attraction been percolating between them over the years, and when I cut myself out of the picture they’d gravitated to each other? The card in my sister’s apartment was signed with a mysterious M. The handwriting wasn’t familiar, but Martin usually had florists hand-write his cards for him.

I reapplied my lipstick and made my way down the crowded bar. As I took my seat I noted that my flute of cava was magically full again. I sat down and pounced before he could say anything. “I was just thinking about how you never gave me my keys back.”

“Your keys?” The bar light was dim, but under his St. Barts tan, I thought Martin paled a little.

“The keys to my apartment on Rivington. You didn’t give them back when we broke up. When I moved to Spain I guess I forgot about them. But it just hit me, you still have them.”

“I certainly haven’t given them away.” Martin smiled. “They’re probably in my desk, but you know what a mess that is.”

“You could have dropped by Claudia’s apartment any time you liked, you know. She didn’t change the locks.”

“Why would I visit her?”

“My sister always liked you.”

Martin grimaced. “I don’t think liked is the word I’d use.”

“What would you call it?”

“Envy. Jealousy. Selfishness. Greed.” His tone was as harsh as his words.

“Where do you think she is?”

Martin rubbed his temple with one hand. “I wish I knew, Lily, I really do. I think we should bring a private investigator into this. The police aren’t making any headway.”