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compulsively with a medallion she wore around her neck on a thin black cord. She looked sad, I thought; then again, maybe it was just the way I felt and I wanted to project that onto everyone around me. It seemed wrong that people should be going on in a normal way. But their reality was not mine.
    “Boring job,” I said.
    She looked up at me and blinked. Twenty-ish, I figured. Her curly streaked blond hair was up in a messy clip. She looked different in a faded tank top and baggy cargo shorts, but I recognized her from one of the tailgating photos. She stared at me with big cornflower-blue eyes.
    “Hose duty,” I said. “It’s boring.”
    “Yeah. Can I help you?” she asked. “Are you looking for the barn manager?”
    “No, actually, I’m looking for you.”
    Her brows knit. “Do I know you?”
    “No, but I think we have a mutual acquaintance. Irina Markova.”
    “Sure, I know Irina.”
    “I recognize you from a photograph she has. From a tailgating party at the polo grounds. I’m Elena, by the way,” I said, offering her my hand. “Elena Estes.”
    She shook it tentatively, still not sure what to make of me. “Lisbeth Perkins.”
    The friend from the caller ID.
    “Have you seen Irina around?” I asked.
    “She doesn’t work here.”
    “I know. I mean, just around.”
    “We went out Saturday night. Why?”
    “I work at the same barn as her. We haven’t seen her for a couple of days.”
    The girl shrugged. “It’s her day off.”
    “Do you know where she would go? What does she usually do on her day off?” I asked, fishing for whatever information I could get about Irina’s life away from the barn.
    “I don’t know. Sometimes we go to the beach when we’re both off. Or shopping.”
    “Where did you go Saturday night?”
    “Are you a cop or something?”
    “No. I’m just concerned. The world is a scary place, Lisbeth. Bad things happen.”
    She gave a little involuntary laugh. “Not to Irina. She can take care of herself.”
    How I wished that had been true in the moment it had become clear that she could not.
    “She was in a big hurry to leave work Saturday,” I said. “Did you guys have plans?”
    “Just to go out. No place special. We went to a couple of clubs on Clematis Street.”
    “Which clubs?”
    Looking annoyed, she turned to the faucets and shut off the water.
    “I don’t know,” she said impatiently. She was nervous with my questions. Whether she had reason to be or whether she was simply sensing something was wrong, I didn’t know. “What’s the difference? We hit some clubs. We had a few drinks.”
    “With anyone in particular?”
    “I don’t like all these questions,” she said. “It’s none of your business what we did.”
    She unsnapped the horse from the ties and started toward the barn with him. I followed.
    “I’m making it my business, Lisbeth,” I said.
    She put the horse in a stall and busied herself with the door latch.
    “Have you seen or heard from her since Saturday night either?” I asked.
    “No. You’re scaring me.”
    “I sometimes have that effect on people.”
    “I wish you would leave.”
    She knew something bad was coming. She wanted me to go away before I set the bad thing loose. Then maybe it didn’t really exist and it couldn’t touch her life. Oh, to be twenty and still believe in innocence.
    “Lisbeth,” I said.
    She didn’t look at me. She seemed to brace herself. I half-expected her to plug her ears with her fingers.
    “Irina is dead. Her body was found this morning in a canal.”
    The big cornflower eyes went glassy with tears. “You’re lying! What kind of sick person are you?”
    From the corner of my eye I could see one of the stable hands looking over at us, frowning. He started toward us with a pitchfork in hand.
    I turned to him and told him in Spanish that everything was fine but that I had given Lisbeth some very sad news. The death of a friend.
    The aggression went out of him and he expressed his apologies