A woman called out, “Kinsey?”

I knew the minute I turned around I was looking at Ethan’s wife. Mamie wasn’t fat by any means, but she was solid. She was taller than I and a good forty pounds heavier. Dark eyes, dark hair skinned back and held with a clip at the nape of her neck. Her face was full, tanned as though she spent all of her waking hours outdoors. She was packed into a pair of black slacks and a crisp white blouse, the shirttail out and belted at the waist. She wore big silver hoop earrings and she carried the manila envelope I’d left behind with Ethan. I knew it was the same because in one corner, I could still see the imprint of Binky’s wee front teeth.

Behind Mamie, seated on the couch, was Evelyn Dace, whose expression I can only describe as sorrowful. She wore a lightweight tweed suit, wren brown, with a white polyester blouse under the jacket topped by a big softly draped bow.

Mamie was holding her hand out. “Mamie Heisermann.” Her voice was of the booming type.

I shook hands with her obligingly, murmuring exactly what one does in situations of the kind.

“Let me introduce you to Evelyn,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind our coming early.”

“Not at all,” I said, though I did mind. The move was meant to catch me off guard, which it had. In the meantime, I couldn’t help but think that Ethan and Mamie were as unlikely a married couple as any I’d seen. She carried herself with authority. He seemed both self-involved and clueless about others’ perception of him. I was impressed by his stage persona, but not with the man himself. I wondered if Mamie had any idea how he behaved when he was out of her sight. Surely, any woman married to a musician has some inkling of what goes on.

I tagged Evelyn Dace at roughly her ex-husband’s age, which I knew was fifty-three at the time of his death. Her eyes were blue, but not the same bright shade as Anna’s. The orbs of her eyes seemed sunken, defined by shadow. She kept her smile modest, as though the hardships in life had robbed her of humor and hope.

We shook hands. Anna had told me Mamie and Evelyn didn’t get along, so the two must have set aside their hostilities in order to present a united front. I might have felt flattered, but I realized a better interpretation was that the two had now merged their antagonisms, the better to focus them on me.

Mamie said, “I talked to the manager and he says we can use the conference room as long as we’re out by noon.”

I thought, Two hours? Shit! “No problem. I’m on my way home, so I don’t have long. I’d like to be on the road by eleven.”