Blanche hesitated, because there was no diagnosis, because there had never been anything wrong with me, and in that half-second of hesitation the whole silk-and-sorrow performance developed a crack that a careful listener could put a finger through.

I put my finger through it later.

For now I only noted it, the way I had taught a generation of investigators to note such things: without expression, without interruption, letting the liar believe she had gotten away with it, so that she would keep going, and build the rest of the wall higher, and give me more.

Chapter 10 — Lie Number Two

Sheldon followed, speaking like a grieving son.

“My mother was brilliant once.