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captain.”
    â€œHealy,” I said.
    â€œWhatever,” she said. “Did you get the pictures of Trent cheating?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI told you I wanted pictures.”
    I nodded.
    â€œHave you identified the woman?” Marlene said.
    â€œDoes it matter now?” I said.
    â€œOf course it matters,” Marlene said. “I’m paying for this information.”
    â€œWoman’s name is Ellen Eisen.”
    â€œMy God,” she said, “that stupid little Jew.”
    â€œNicely said.”
    â€œOh, God. Don’t get PC on me. She is a stupid little Jew.”
    There didn’t seem anywhere to take that, so I nodded and left it.
    â€œSorry things worked out the way they did,” I said.
    â€œDon’t worry about me. I’m strong. I can take it. I don’t need any sympathy.”
    â€œI’m sorry anyway,” I said.
    â€œThey’ll think I did it,” Marlene said.
    â€œThey will?”
    â€œOf course they will, they always suspect the wife.”
    â€œIn a homicide,” I said, “the cops routinely investigate everybody. They’ll clear you.”
    â€œMy friends will think I did it. I know they will. They will love blaming me.”
    â€œWhat are friends for?” I said.
    She paid no attention.
    â€œThey’ll think because of who I am, the police would be intimidated and not really investigate.”
    The image of her intimidating Healy made me smile, but Marlene took no notice.
    â€œI’ll need you to prove I wasn’t involved,” she said.
    â€œI don’t think you do,” I said. “On the reasonable assumption that you weren’t, I should think the cops could do that on their own.”
    â€œYou still work for me,” she said. “I want to be cleared.”
    â€œWhere were you last night,” I said, “between, say, six and ten.”
    â€œI went to the movies.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œAt that new big theater complex near the new Ritz.”
    â€œWhat did you see?”
    â€œ Chicago. And I don’t like being questioned this way.”
    â€œThe easiest way to be cleared is to have an alibi,” I said.
    â€œWell, I was at the movies. I often go into Boston alone to the movies.”
    â€œYou didn’t see anyone you knew?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou have the ticket stub?”
    â€œNo, of course not, why would I save a ticket stub?”
    I was quiet.
    â€œIt’s like you think I did do it,” she said.
    â€œYou have very little chance of getting at the truth,” I said, “if you know in advance what the truth ought to be.”
    â€œOh, don’t lecture me,” she said. “Go do your job.”
    â€œMarlene,” I said. “I think I’m going to have to file you under Life’s Too Short.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œI quit again.”
    She stared at me.
    â€œYou can’t quit,” she said.
    â€œSure I can.”
    I stood up.
    â€œI’ll send my bill to Randy,” I said.
    She began to cry. I started for the door. She cried harder.
    â€œPlease,” she said.
    I got to the door.
    â€œPlease,” she said again.
    I looked back. She was bent way over in her chair as if her stomach hurt. Her face was buried in her hands.
    â€œPlease don’t leave,” she said. “Please don’t leave me like this.”
    She had me. I put my hand on the doorknob but I knew I wasn’t going to turn it. I took in some air. She blubbered.
    â€œOkay,” I said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOkay,” I said.
    I turned away from the door and went back and sat down. I was 0 for 2, quitting.

13
    D r. Silverman and I looked at the Gainsborough exhibit all morning at the Museum of Fine Arts. Then we went for lunch in the museum restaurant. Susan had salad. I had fruit and cheese. We shared a bottle of pinot grigio.
    â€œI doubt that she was faking the hysterics,” Susan said to