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relieved to hear that. What’s the next order of business?”
    “We go question our own Mrs. Joy.”
    “If you’re referring to Carlotta, I suggest we stop by a drug store for some cotton before having any lengthy discourse.”
    She laughed at my suggestion, but when I informed her it was normal procedure among Carlotta’s own family, she agreed.
    We arrived home to find our guests at the table finishing what looked to have been a very full breakfast. They’d brought the damned parrot back out and Thibaut had taken to teaching it French. He paced back and forth in imitation of the bird, then squawked, “ Ne mords pas si fort, Har-ree! ”
    “What did he say?” Aunt Nell asked.
    “Don’t BITE so hard , HarRY!” Carlotta told her.
    The three of them shared a laugh, too engrossed to notice our entry.
    “Oh, I rarely make that complaint,” Emmie divulged.
    They spun about. Then all four of them had another laugh. I returned the bird to the closet and this time locked the door. I gave Thibaut a stern look, but he responded with his customary impish smile. It was always difficult to stay angry at Thibaut. Ten minutes after he and his fellow mutineers threatened me with a watery grave, all was forgiven.
    In contrition, he offered to prepare omelets for Emmie and me and left for the kitchen humming a ditty.
    “Thibaut’s an excellent cook, Emmie,” Aunt Nell told her. “You should ask him to stay on.”
    “I’m afraid we couldn’t afford to keep him in wine,” I said.
    She went off to attend to some part of her toilette and Emmie turned her attention to Carlotta.
    “I hope it isn’t too sensitive a subject, dear, but were you married to Ernie Joy?”
    “Who wasn’t? But it was only for a month. Last spring.”
    “We heard he’d developed a habit of tricking young girls into thinking he’d married them,” I said.
    “Oh, maybe sometimes. I knew what it was about. I ain’t no young girl.”
    “Then why did you go along with it?” Emmie asked.
    “Look, there’re two kinds of actors. Some aren’t much different from other people. They save their money, go to church on Sunday, maybe even raise a family on the road. Then there are people like Ernie and me. We put all that stuff off ’til later. Now’s for having fun. My act broke up and I was out of work, and you can guess what that means. For a month I was Mrs. Joy, while Ernie did the western circuit. And Ernie lived high, when he had it. We both had a good time. When we got back here, it was done.”
    “You started a new act?”
    “I got a legit part in the third company of Lady of Lyons . Loins of the Lady we called it. They canceled us in Louisville. I had to leg my way back in the chorus of Billy Watson’s Burlesquers.”
    “So you didn’t harbor any hard feelings toward Ernie. But what about his other wives?” Emmie asked.
    “Who knows? There are some real hot-heads out there.”
    “We heard about one who shot her husband on stage last night,” I mentioned.
    “Yeah, I saw in the paper. Good old Desirée. I bet I know where she shot him, too.”
    “The Orpheum, I believe,” Emmie told her.
    “The Orpheum. That’s a good one, Emmie. I’ll have to remember that. When I was with Billy, I had to kick a Philadelphia stagehand in the Orpheum. I bet he’s still feeling it.”
    “What about Ernie’s real wives?” I asked. “Do you think he was paying them alimony?”
    “When he was flush he’d send them something, but he probably owed them more.”
    “Was his life insured?”
    “He told me he didn’t see the point. Why would he want to make himself worth more dead than alive?”
    “Sound reasoning,” I said. Emmie caught me looking her way.
    Before she could offer a retort, Thibaut emerged from the kitchen with our omelets, and then, through gesture alone, inquired solicitously of Carlotta if she wanted another. Carlotta responded likewise, opening her mouth wide and making like a hungry baby bird. Apparently they’d already