“I just think it would be so interesting,” she said. “I mean, I bet nobody here even knows anyone who has shot someone.”

“I am hopeful that I won’t have to shoot anyone on this job,” I said.

Abigail said, “I wouldn’t actually mind if you shot the bastard.”

“No,” Beth said. “I don’t think any of us would mind.” Both Beth and Abigail were blonde. In fact, everyone at the table was blonde except Regina, and me, and Elizabeth. Maybe they did have more fun.

“Tell me about him,” I said.

All the women looked at Abigail. She shrugged.

“He’s one slick item,” she said. “He’s handsome, charming, fun to be with, wears clothes beautifully, and he’s very sexy, the sonovabitch.”

“So far, except for sonovabitch,” I said, “we could be talking about me.”

The women all looked at me without response.

“So much for lighthearted,” I said. “Can you give me anything more substantive? Like where he lives?”

“I…” Abigail paused. “I don’t actually know.”

“Who does,” I said.

They all looked at one another and discovered that none of them knew. It startled them.

“Okay,” I said. “Where did you get together?”

“We’d meet for cocktails,” Abigail said. “Or drinks and dinner in, like, suburban restaurants. At least that’s what he and I did.”

All the other women nodded. That’s what they did, too.

“And where did you, ah, consummate your relationship,” I said.

Spenser, the soul of delicacy.

“I, for one, am not going to discuss that,” Regina said.

“Oh, for crissake, Reggie,” Abigail said. “How the hell did he get the goods on you?”

She looked at me.

“We were all bopping our brains out with him,” she said.

“With me it was usually in a motel along 128.”

“Sometimes we’d go away for a weekend,” Beth said. “ Maine, the Cape, New York City.”

Beth had a small, attractive overbite, and wore sunglasses that probably cost more than Abigail’s haircut.