"Why?"

"Her game had slipped, that much was true. Her coach – that famous gentleman who plays with all the celebrities…"

"Pavel Menansi."

"Whatever. He still believed Valerie could come back and win again. He said it all the time."

"Thereby putting more pressure on her."

Win hesitated. "Perhaps," he said slowly. "But there is another factor. Do you remember the murder of Alexander Cross?"

"The senator's son?"

"The senator from Pennsylvania," Win added.

"He was killed by robbers at his country club. Five, six years ago."

"Six. And it was a tennis club."

"You knew him?"

"Of course," Win said. "The Hornes have known every important Pennsylvania politician since William Penn. I grew up with Alexander Cross. We went to Exeter together."

"So what does he have to do with Valerie Simpson?"

"Alexander and Valerie were, shall we say, an item."

"A serious item?"

"Quite. They were about to announce their engagement when Alexander was killed. That night, as a matter of fact"

Myron did some quick mathematics in his head. Six years ago. Valerie would have been eighteen. "Let me guess. Valerie's breakdown took place right after his murder."

"Precisely."

"But I don't get something. The Cross murder was on the news every day for weeks. How come I never heard Valerie's name mentioned?"

"That," Win said, nailing another putt, "is why I find the circumstances disturbing."

Silence.

"We need to talk to Valerie's family," Myron said. "Maybe the senator's as well."

"Yes."

"You live in that world. You're one of them. They'd be more apt to talk to you."

Win shook his head. "They'll never talk to me. Being 'one of them,' as you put it, is a severe handicap. Their guard will be up with someone like me. But with you they won't be so concerned about facades. They'll perceive you as someone who doesn't matter, as someone inferior, as someone beneath them. A nobody."