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further contact, that’s something you may never knοw. Not for sure.”
    “How...Sonnie hesitated, made to get up. “I didn’t tell
    Roy—”
    “No, you didn’t.” He shrugged and indicated the computer. “I did a little checking.”
    “And found out my history? On the computer?”
    “Not hard if you know where to look—and have some connections. Don’t worry. Most people don’t knοw. But the question’s the same. What I said about your husband’s abduction.”
    Face-to-face with voicing at least a facsimile of what she believed, Sonnie felt as if her diaphragm had been cut out. She would not say that what she needed most was her memory.
    “Isn’t it true?”
    “It may be. If he was really abducted.”
    Another subtle shift in expression. His eyes narrowed then, and his nostrils flared.
    “I don’t think the crash I had near the airport—Smathers Beach—was an accident. I think I need to find out if someone tried to kill me, and I can’t risk asking anyone I knοw for help.”
    “So you’re trying to dump a guilt trip on me. I’m supposed to take you on because I’m too honorable to let you go it alone.”
    Sonnie stood up. “I hadn’t thought about it quite like that. But, since you mention it, won’t it make you feel bad if you send me away now and you read about my murder in the morning?”

 
    Four
     
    “Hello, hello, hello.” Α white-haired woman wearing a yellow muumuu that reached her ankles slid sideways through a gap in the fence between Sonnie’s house and the pink stucco immediately to the west.
    “Old friend?” Roy said.
    “No.” Sonnie watched the woman advance. “Although…I think I do remember her. She used to wave from a distance—pretty much like she’s waving now.”
    “Mrs. Giacano? Yes, it is you; of course it is.”
    Sonnie, with Roy beside her, stopped reluctantly at the foot of the steps to the veranda and said, “Good morning.” It was a good morning, the sun so bright it made her squint. Except for leaving scattered red poinciana petals like a telltale fingerprint, the storm of the night before might never have happened.
    The woman arrived before them. Up close she was younger than she had appeared at first.
    “You probably don’t remember me. No, I see you don’t. It’s just Ena. From next door. We only met a few times in passing. But then, you and that handsome husband of yours were always so busy. I didn’t like to push myself. And I never saw you when he was away.” She tutted and shook her head. She held a long florist’s box. “I’m certainly sorry about those dreadful people. The ones who kidnapped him. Imagine that—kidnapped. How long has it been now? Eight months? How are we supposed to feel safe in our own homes when a man like that is snatched away and there isn’t a word more heard?” She paused for breath. “I wanted to come sooner—once I saw you here again—but I don’t intrude. There hasn’t been any news, has there? About your husband?”
    Sonnie took an instant to recover from the onslaught and say, “No, no word.”
    “Fancy that. And such a talented man. I just know he was about to make a comeback. And he will. You just wait and see. I was telling Edward—he’s my lodger Edward Miller”—she pointed toward her own house, at a man playing with a small dog near the front door—“I told Edward how Frank Giacano will show up one of these days and he’ll take his rightful place. He’ll be number one, and you’ll be proud to be beside him. The cameras are so kind to him. Not that they have to be kind. He’s so handsome.” She rolled her eyes. “Those Italian good looks. No wonder all those women run after him. Charisma, that’s what it is. And when they let him go, he’ll be even more mysterious.”
    Sonnie felt her fingernails digging into her palms but couldn’t relax enough to uncurl her hands. All she could think to say was, “Yes, yes.” This woman was one more of Frank’s fans. She probably