“The man who contacted me said that you hadn’t seen Colin since before his second marriage.”

“That’s right.”

“Can you tell me why that was?”

“A family situation. You haven’t bothered Betty, have you? She’s been ill.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She’s had difficulty for years because of Colin, and I don’t think it would be helpful if you bothered her.”

“Yes, of course. Let me change the subject. Did your son ever tell you anything of his business affairs?”

“No. Should he have?”

“I don’t know,” Leland said. The game was over. He was learning nothing and she was tightening up anyway. Lines had appeared across her brow and her upper lip like the soft shadows of a sunset. “Let me ask you this, Mrs. MacIver: are there any questions that you have about your son’s death?”

“No. No, I think I know less about it than you do, Mr. Leland. You haven’t told me of anything you knew about him. You didn’t know him at all, did you?”

“We were introduced,” he said. “He was very young then.”

“He was very young when he died,” she said. She smiled; she thought that he was securely in her trap. “Can you tell me when you met Colin?”

“February or March of ’45. I went home shortly after that. Another thing: before his death, Colin had a scar on the left side of his neck. He didn’t have it when I knew him. Could you tell me how he got that?”

“I could but I won’t.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The lines were deeper now. “You understood me. I won’t discuss it with you.”

“Well, could you tell me if it had anything to do with the collapse of his first marriage?”

“I’m sorry.” She got up. “This is a waste of time. You can tell that little Guinea that she needn’t ever come around here, if the mood strikes her. I’m not interested in her or whatever she thinks she’s up to. I’ll get your coat.”

Leland waited in the living room. He could get in another two questions if he made her show him the way to the door. When she returned and saw him holding his ground she let out an audible sigh. Her face looked as hard as cast iron. “Goodbye, Mr. Leland.”

“Do you feel that the scar had a connection with his death?”

“Goodbye! Please!”

“Mrs. MacIver, I feel that you do have information that could help me. A man doesn’t fall to his death for no reason. If you do know about that scar—”

“Of course I know, but I’m not going to tell you!” She let her eyes go over him as if his presence brutalized her. “Would you leave? If you come around me and mine again, I’ll have to take action against you.”