Someone opened the dead fingers. A computer disk.

“Datum! ” Ben said.

The air was mock electric.

Joel stepped up another rung. “OK, listen, everyone, tonight we have with us a professional investigator, my friend, Jimmy Miles.”

Everyone turned to look, but Jimmy was gone.

* * *

The cue ball struck the five ball, which clipped the eight, sending it into the side pocket.

“I meant to do that,” Jimmy said.

Jean had stepped in. It was the game room. They were alone. He retrieved the eight ball and lined up another shot.

She waited, expecting him to speak. He didn’t.

“We were hoping you might give us a fresh perspective,” she said. “Some original ideas.”

“The butler did it.”

“Joel said — ”

Jimmy took his shot, sank the ball. “I used to have original ideas,” he said. “Then time and the world conspired to beat them out of me. Now I think the same thing as everybody else, only a little later.”

He was still trying to impress her. He sank the three. It made a nice click.

“Kantke,” Jimmy said. “Is that German?”

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you.” He gave her a smile and offered her the cue.

She didn’t take it.

“I asked Joel to invite you,” she said.

In a beat, he changed, went cold, pulled inside. A familiar sadness overtook him, the way a cloud slides over the moon.

He went back to his game.

“I knew you and Joel were friends,” she said, as he closed down. “I’d like for you to look into something for me. Joel said — ”

Jimmy sank a shot and cut her off. “I helped Joel with something a while back and he’s had the wrong idea about me ever since,” he said. “I gotta talk to him about that.”

“Please,” she said. “I know all about you.”

Now he gave her a challenging look.