Clare looked straight into my eyes, a small, stubborn smile touching the corners of her mouth.

“You know I’m technically very difficult to order around,” she said.

I smiled back at her across the Formica table, feeling the long, cold tension of fifteen years fall away completely.

“He sat alone at table one until twelve thirty last night,” Clare said.

“Did anyone stay with him?”

“Margaret left with her sister at eleven,” she said.

“Richard Hail got his coat and walked out right after Arthur handed over the cashier’s check.”

“And the rest of the board members?” I asked.