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stopped by my office the day of the dinner, said he had one last card up his sleeve.”
    “What is the report about?”
    “I don’t know.” She touched some of the keys again and watched the machine. “The fat fuck kept hinting that it was going to shake out the industry. The Ash Report, he kept calling it, the pompous asshole. Pompous Ash-hole.” She ran her hands through her hair. “I’m going to miss that wonderful old man.”
    Wetzon took a swallow of the bitter coffee. “Do you remember what Goldie said just before he collapsed? Didn’t he say something about disappointing people?”
    The phone buzzed.
    “I honestly don’t remember, Wetzon. The police asked me the same question.” She frowned a furrow between her thick, dark eyebrows and picked up the phone. “Everybody? Good. And the other? Yes.” She hung up. “I’ve got to get back to work.” Her eyes focused on the machine. “Thanks, Wetzon.”
    Wetzon pulled her cardcase from her suit pocket. “Here’s my card, Ellie. I’m putting my home number on the back. Call me.” Her pen scratched a blob of ink on the number so she switched a fresh card for the one with the inkblot.
    “Sure, Wetzon. We’ll talk again.”
    They shook hands and Wetzon stepped out of the office.
    She paused at the door to David Kim’s office on her way back to the conference room. He was hunched over his phone and didn’t see her. “It’s important. Just sign it,” he was saying. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
    Smith would say she was a fool because they hadn’t gotten paid for the placement, but Wetzon was proud of what David Kim had made of himself. She walked down the wide corridor featuring the Georgia O’Keeffes and was back in the reception area.
    “How is poor Ellie?” Maggie Gray asked without much interest as Wetzon passed her.
    “She’s okay.” Wetzon climbed the curved stairs and got to the door of the conference room just as everyone was leaving.
    “Ah, Wetzon,” John Hoffritz said when he saw her. “I want to thank you for your suggestion. We really appreciate this.” He shook Smith’s hand firmly. Smith was purring benignly, looking for all the world like the Cheshire Cat. “I’m sure this will work out well for all of us.” His mouth parted slightly in a constipated smile. “We’ll clear the way so that you can talk to people freely.”
    That Smith , Wetzon thought, and was interrupted by Carlton Ash.
    “A pleasure meeting you,” the fat man said to Wetzon, leaning into her too closely.
    She drew back. “I understand you’re doing a study of the industry.” He stared at her. “I’d love to read it. That is, if it’s not proprietary information.”
    His eyes drooped. Little beads of perspiration dotted his hairline and upper lip. “What report? I don’t know anything about a report.”
    “Whatever you say. But if you’re really going to shake up the industry, I’d appreciate knowing about it.” She gave him a warm and friendly smile, and judged herself to be as phony as all the rest.
    “I’m here as a consulting psychologist.”
    “Of course.”
    “Do you have a business card?”
    “Come on, Wetzon,” Smith said. “Let’s go. We have a lot of work to do.”
    “Just a minute.” Wetzon shook off Smith’s insistent fingers plucking away at her sleeve and gave Dr. Ash her card.
    Smith had them on the street and into a cab heading back uptown to their office in less than ten minutes.
    “How about telling me what the big rush is about, Smith?”
    Smith settled back in her seat and studied her scarlet fingernails. She looked at Wetzon coyly out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t respond.
    “What did Hoffritz mean ... clear the way so that we can talk to people? What suggestion was he thanking me for so profusely?”
    “We’re going to do some detective work for them, along with the recruiting. “ Smith pulled out a piece of paper from her briefcase. It was a Luwisher Brothers check made out to Smith