SUSAN AND I were having drinks before dinner in the South End at a slick new restaurant called Rocca. Susan was sipping a Cosmopolitan. I was moving more quickly on a Dewar’s and soda.

“It’s sort of an elaborate scam,” Susan said. “Isn’t it?”

“Kind of,” I said. “But he gets a double dip out of it.”

“Sex and money?” Susan said.

“Yep. With an assortment of handsome women.”

“All of whom,” Susan said, “are married to older men.”

“Rich older men,” I said.

“Doesn’t mean none of them love their husbands,” Susan said.

“No, it doesn’t,” I said. “But none of the women love their husbands enough to stay faithful.”

“Often it’s not a matter of love,” Susan said.

“I know.”

“Still,” Susan said, “he chose wisely.”

“Which suggests it’s not random,” I said.

My scotch was gone. I looked around for a waiter, and found one, and asked for more. A handsome, well-dressed man walked past our table with a group of people. The handsome man stopped.

“Susan,” he said. “Hello.”

“Joe,” Susan said. “What a treat.”

She introduced us.

“Joseph Abboud?” I said. “The clothes guy.”

“The clothes guy,” he said.

“You got anything off the rack would fit me?” I said.

Abboud looked at me silently for a moment and smiled.

“God, I hope not,” he said.

We laughed. Abboud moved on after his group. I drank my second scotch. We looked at the menu. The waitress took our order.

“Is that how you’re going to find him?” Susan said. “That it’s not random?”

“There must be some connection among the women and with him,” I said.

“Do you have a thought?” Susan said. “On what it might be?”

“No,” I said.

“But you will,” she said.

“I will,” I said.

“These women don’t know each other?”

“They do now,” I said. “But they didn’t originally, except a couple of them.”