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nodded.
    â€œI didn’t get a chance to tell you, but you made a terrific Lady Capulet,” I said. “Where’d you learn to speak blank verse? Not teaching high school biology.”
    I had a sudden flash back to my ninth-grade biology class. If I’d had to coerce thirty bored kids to stick their fingers into a formaldehyde-reeking frog’s innards and stab at muscle tissue, I’d have retired early, too.
    Lola headed out to the kitchen, and I followed her, newspaper, plate, and mug in hand. “I did lots of plays in college. I wanted to major in theater, but my parents thought it was too risky a career.”
    And monitoring thirty kids with dissection knives in a lab wasn’t risky?
    â€œI did a couple of plays in New York. Nothing much. Just some off-off stuff.”
    â€œLike Walter?”
    Lola nodded. “That’s where I first met him. In fact, I was responsible for getting him to apply for artistic director. I hope I don’t live to regret that,” she said and frowned.
    â€œHe’s done a lot of good work for the ELT.”
    â€œTrue. Anyway, my car’s in the shop. Can you drop me off?” she asked.
    â€œSure. I don’t need to be back to work for another hour.”
    I waited in the kitchen while Lola went upstairs to dress. I studied the picture in the newspaper. Jerome had his arm around Elliot Schenk. Walter had adopted a degree of decorum—I knew Walter never really drank beyond a glass of champagne at openings—but the other two had drinks in their hands and were having a grand old time.
    Lola reappeared, having transformed herself via white silk blouse and tan, pressed trousers, all trace of the morning’s angst having vanished.
    â€œWere Jerome and Elliot good friends? I mean they look like drinking buddies in this picture.”
    She snickered. “Oh, yes. The two of them were always into mischief. When Elliot was on the stage crew, he and Jerome used to sneak out between the opening and intermission. Penny would have to call Jerome’s cell phone to get them back here for scene changes. They even took trips to Atlantic City every so often.”
    â€œJerome?”
    â€œI think he mostly walked on the boardwalk and played a few slot machines. Elliot was a high-stakes poker guy—who tended to lose.”
    â€œTwo retired buddies on the prowl,” I said softly.
    â€œElliot wasn’t retired. He worked on Wall Street.”
    â€œWhy did he leave so suddenly?” I asked.
    â€œNo one really knows.” She shrugged. “Maybe Jerome knew, but he never said anything. They did stay in touch though. Jerome mentioned that he had spoken to Elliot a few times in the last month. But there was speculation.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    â€œThat Elliot had gotten into some financial trouble and had to skip town. Or that he had a drinking problem and had to go into a rehab center. Or that he had a long-lost child who showed up one day.” Lola smiled. “It was all quite a mystery.”
    â€œIt’s nice that Jerome had someone he could hang out with.”
    â€œThey laughed a lot together,” Lola said; then little frown lines appeared. “The only time I heard them argue was one night after they returned from a weekend in Atlantic City. It had to do with Elliot borrowing money from Jerome and not paying him back when he said he would. But it all blew over quickly.”
    â€œJerome in Atlantic City. Something I never knew,” I said, as we walked out the door.
    We climbed into my red Metro, still chugging along at ninety thousand miles. Lola was used to her new Lexus and allowed only the faintest traces of distaste to cross her face at having to ride in my pre-owned Chevy.
    â€œWhat’s that odor?” she asked.
    â€œTake-out garlic balls from La Famiglia. But don’t tell Henry I was patronizing his competitor.”
    Lola tactfully held her hand to her face.
    * * *
    I