It was getting on for midnight when we left Paris Green and walked home on Ninth Avenue. There was rain forecast but you never would have known it. The air was cool and dry, and there was a breeze off the Hudson.

"Hildebrand gave me a check," I told her. "I'll deposit it in the morning."

"Unless you want to use the ATM."

"No, I want to go straight home," I said. "I'm a little tired. And I want to go over my notes some more before I go to sleep."

"Do you really think-"

"- that somebody's been knocking them off like clay pigeons? I'm not supposed to know yet. I was hired to find out, not to make up my mind in advance."

"So you're keeping an open mind."

"Not entirely," I admitted. "It's hard for me to get away from the numbers. There have been too many deaths. There has to be an explanation. All I have to do is find it."

We stood at a corner, waiting for the light to change. She said, "Why would anyone want to do something like that?"

"I don't know."

"If they were all in college together, and they raped some girl at a drunken fraternity party, and now her brother's getting revenge."

"That's pretty good," I said.

"Or it's her son, and his mother died in childbirth, so he wants vengeance, but he also has to find out which of the men is his father. How does that sound?"

"Like a Movie of the Week."

"I guess the killer would have to be one of the survivors, huh?"

"Well, I don't think it's one of the victims."

"I mean as opposed to-"

"- somebody from outside," I said. "That's Hildebrand's fear, of course. That's why he's had to keep his suspicions to himself. He would have liked to voice his concern to a fellow member, but suppose he picked the wrong one to confide in? According to him, nobody on the outside even knows that the club exists."

"You seem dubious."

"Well, they've been doing this for thirty-two years. Do you really think nobody let something slip in all that time?" I shrugged. "Still, the fourteen surviving members would have to be the chief suspects."