Jack Weathers said, “They don’t send guys in suits for the ball, Daze. They send kids—scouts, cadets, whatever you call ’em.”

Daisy Weathers said, “Cute kids, they’re making ’em bigger nowadays. What can we do for you boys?”

Milo said, “We’d like to talk about Adriana Betts.”

She looked puzzled. “Well, I can’t say I know who that is.”

Jack Weathers’s face darkened. A fist punched a palm. “Knew it—it was one of you who called earlier, right? If you’d left a number, I’d have called you back.”

I said, “Got cut off, couldn’t get through after that.”

His eyes danced to the right. “Well, I don’t know about that. Our phones are working fine.”

Daisy said, “Jack, what’s going on?”

“All they had to do was call, this really isn’t necessary.”

“He says he did.”

“Well, all he had to do was try again.” Maybe Weathers was usually truthful, because lying didn’t sit well with him. I counted at least three tells in as many seconds: lip-gnaw, brow-twitch, foot-tap. Then his eyes got jumpy.

“Anyway,” I said, “we’re here, so no harm, no foul.”

Milo moved toward the doorway. Jack Weathers considered his options and stepped aside.

Daisy Weathers said, “What was that name, boys?”

Milo said, “Adriana Betts.”

“Is that someone I’m supposed to know, Jack?”

The eyes turned into pinballs.

She touched his wrist. He jerked reflexively.

“Jackie? What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, baby.”

I said, “So she did work for you.”

“No one works for us,” said Jack Weathers. “We’re facilitators.”

“Ja-ack-ee?” said his wife. “Again?”

Weathers looked away.

“Jack!”

“No big deal, Daze.”

“Obviously it is a big deal if the police are here.”

He cursed under his breath.

She said, “You boys better come in and straighten this out.”

The single-room office was furnished with two cheap desks and three hard-plastic chairs. The walls were hospital-beige and bare. A lone window half covered by warped plastic blinds looked out to an alley and the brick wall of the neighboring building. One desk was set up with a multi-line phone, a modem, a computer, a printer, and a fax machine. The other held a collection of bisque figurines—slender, white-wigged court figures engaged in spirited nonsense. Daisy Weathers took a seat behind the porcelain and lifted a lute-playing lady in a ball gown. One of her six rings clinked against the doll. Her husband winced.

Then he slipped behind the bank of business machines and eased his long body as low as he could manage.

Milo said, “Tell us about Adriana Betts.”

Daisy said, “Yes, do, dear.”

Jack said, “She came with good recommendations.”

“Did you do the screening, Jackie?”

“It was an urgent one, Daze.”