“All is certainly not well.” Marco’s tone was icy. “When you introduced me to Erin Kelley I was most impressed with her and her portfolio. The design she submitted was superb and as you know, we gave her our client’s family gems to reset. The necklace was supposed to have been delivered this morning. Miss Kelley failed to keep the appointment and has not answered our repeated messages. Mr. Stratton, I want either that necklace or my client’s gems back immediately.”

Jay ran his tongue over his lips. He realized the hand holding the phone was damp. He had forgotten about the necklace. He chose his answer carefully. “I saw Miss Kelly a week ago. She showed me the necklace. It was exquisite. There must be some misunderstanding.”

“The misunderstanding is that she has failed to deliver the necklace, which is needed for an engagement party Friday night. I repeat, I want it or my client’s gems back tomorrow. I hold you responsible to execute one or the other alternative. Is that clear?”

The sharp click of the phone sounded in Stratton’s ears.

Michael Nash saw his last patient, Gerald Renquist, at five o’clock on Wednesday afternoon. Renquist was the retired CEO of an international pharmaceutical company. Retirement had thrown a man whose personal identity was linked to the intrigue and politics of the boardroom to the status of unwilling sideliner. “I know I should consider myself lucky,” Renquist was saying, “but I feel so damn useless. Even my wife pulled that old saw on me-‘I married you for better or worse, but not for lunch.’”

“You must have had a game plan for retirement,” Nash suggested mildly.

Renquist laughed. “I did. Avoid it at all cost.”

Depression, Nash thought. The common cold of mental illness. He realized he was tired and not giving Renquist his full attention. Not fair, he told himself. He’s paying for me to listen. Still, it was a distinct relief when at ten of six he was able to wrap up the session.