No, that wasn’t the real reason. Solid or not, Delaware was still a shrink and Petra was worried she couldn’t keep the sadness out of her voice and he’d pick up on it and want to do his thing. She was in no mood to be shrunk.

Now, shielded by homicide, she could make contact with impunity.

The next morning, at ten, she dialed the white house. Alex picked up and said, “Hey, Petra, what’s up?”

They exchanged small talk, Alex inquired about Billy, Petra lied and said everything was going great. Then she said, “I’m actually calling Robin. Her name came up in the date book of the victim on a case I just picked up.”

“Baby Boy Lee?”

“How’d you know?”

“Robin worked on his guitars. He’s been here a few times. Sweet guy.”

“You know him pretty well?”

“No,” said Alex. “He came by once in a while. Friendly, always smiling. But a bluesman’s smile.”

“Meaning?”

“Sad, resigned. Robin told me he’d had some hard luck. A couple of times I walked in and found him playing. Best show I’ve seen all year. He had an incredible sense of phrasing- not a lot of notes but the right ones.”

Talking like a music guy- nearly word for word, the same thing Petra had heard from the big man’s band mates.

She remembered: Alex played guitar.

“Lots of hard luck,” she said. “What else can you tell me about him?”

“That’s about it. Robin worked on his guitars for free because he was always broke. He’d always make a show of writing out an IOU and handing it to her, but to my knowledge she never collected. Any idea who did it?”

“Nope. That’s why I’m following everything up. Robin around?”

Several seconds passed. Then: “She doesn’t live here anymore, Petra. We separated a few months ago.”

“Oh.”

“Mutual decision, it’s working out,” he said. But he didn’t sound as if he meant it. “I’ll give you her number.”

Petra ’s cheeks had grown hot. Not embarrassment. Anger. Another castle crumbles.