“Sit down, Frank,” I said.

“You’re going to want to be sitting.”

Frank sat.

His chair leg caught on the rug, and he pulled it loose with both hands.

Julian found his watch again and then found my face, and for the first time all evening he looked at me the way he looked at a column of numbers that wouldn’t add up.

“What’s on the phone, Nora?” he asked.

“Ten minutes of you,” I said, “on April ninth, at four fifteen in the afternoon, in your car, with the phone in your pocket.”