“Not because it needs it.

Because you’ll want to.”

The house phone rang while we were sweeping brass shavings into a paper cup.

It was Victoria Croft.

“I’m calling as a courtesy, not on club business,” she said, and I could hear her smoothing the blazer.

“Go on.”

“Miss Bennett came in at one o’clock.

She took the bracelet off at my front counter, asked me to write down the date and time, and said she wanted nothing more to do with the account or the gentleman.”