She carried a purse the size of a duffel bag over one shoulder, and she let it drop onto the banquette opposite Ted, following it and placing her elbows firmly on the table. “You’re him, aren’t ya? You’re Eddie Molloy.”

At the end of the bar, Paulie, too sober this early in the day, began cursing at the television. Lili shushed him and poured him a fresh glass.

“Ted. Edward Molloy to judges and tax collectors. But everyone else calls me Ted.”

“Richie called you Eddie.”

“Not to my face. Why didn’t you ask your friend to come in? Or were you afraid he wouldn’t fit through the door?”

“Excuse me? Do I know what you’re talking about?”

She was a good liar, but he had caught her by surprise. He’d been right. She knew the giant and didn’t want Ted to know that she did. Ted stored this in his mental file labeled “Enigmas” but decided not to press it. “So you knew Richie?”

Lili called across the room, “Youse need anything ovah theh?” She had learned her English in Rego Park. Ted shook his head. The lady wouldn’t be staying around long.

“Say what?” the angry blonde said. “I was married to him for ten years.” The sunglasses came off, revealing an intelligent face that caught Ted by surprise.

He was, for a moment, speechless. This woman was half Richie’s age. When had they married? When she was fifteen? And even with the retro hair and overdone makeup, she was an attractive woman—though definitely not Ted’s type—and Richie had distinctly not been an attractive man.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Ted said. “But I have to tell you, Richie never mentioned a wife.”

“And?”

“And . . . I don’t know. I’m surprised, that’s all.” The ancient Ballantine clock over Lili’s head—set to bar time, ten minutes fast—showed that noon was approaching. Ted had no idea when the police detective might show up, but he didn’t want to be found chatting with the widow of the victim. Cops made assumptions all too easily.

“We didn’t always get along, but I want to know what was so friggin’ important that some bastid wanted to kill him over it.”

“I’m sorry, but what is your name? Or shall I call you Mrs. Rubiano?”

“That’s my name. But it’s Cheryl. Not Sheryl. Cheryl. Like in ‘cherry.’”

“Or ‘charming,’” Ted said, hoping to slow her assault.

“Exactly.”

“Well, Cheryl, Richie did odd jobs for me. A bit of research at the county clerk’s office and the courthouse. That’s all.”

“So what got him killed then?”

Was she accusing Ted? “Richie made some enemies in his time.”

“Yeah, I know all about that. Guy was the worst grifter I ever seen.”

“Ah,” Ted said, smiling to indicate he was joking. “It’s a family business then?”