And Milo?”

“Yes?”

“Try to forget what you saw, okay? Because you’re never going to see it again.”

“Okay.”

“Now get out of here while I get dressed.”

4.

“YOU LOOK INCREDIBLE,” Milo says, when she enters the bedroom.

“Try not to look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve seen me naked. It gives me the creeps.”

“I’m really sorry about that.”

“I’ll get over it. I hope. Eventually. If you stop staring at me like you’ve got some sort of secret knowledge. People pick up on that shit.”

“I’ll be cool.”

She studies him a moment. “You don’t look so good. You sure you’re up for this?”

“I’ll get it done.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“You’re positive he’ll come home before going to the party?”

“One thing about Jake: he’s a creature of habit.”

“What time do you think he’ll get here?”

“Six-thirty, seven at the latest. He’ll come in the kitchen, eat some chips and dip. Then he’ll come back here, use the bathroom, take a shower. He’ll take his time. You heard him on the phone. He intends to show up late for Lemon’s party. You know Jake: he’ll want to make the grand entrance.”

“Too cool to be on time?”

“Exactly. Speaking of which, you’re still planning to come, right? After shooting him?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Anything else I need to know?”

“Make sure your cell phone’s on. Make several calls to different friends while driving to the restaurant. But especially call Jake.”

“Why?”

“It’ll establish what time you left the house, and prove you went to the party before Jake left Harry’s Bar.”

“Harry’s Nickel.”

“Whatever.”

“How will it prove that?”

“When the police investigate the shooting you’ll be the prime suspect. They’ll check your cell phone records, see who you called, and chart your course by the cell towers that picked up your signals.”

“You sound like a cop.”

Milo shrugs.

Faith says, “Any chance they’ll figure it out?”

“I doubt it. You have a bunch of witnesses who’ll testify you were at the party. And everyone knows I’ve been at my mom’s house all afternoon. My car’s there, and my cell phone. You’ll call me at seven-thirty, my mom will answer. You’ll talk to her a few minutes, and she’ll promptly forget all about it because Alzheimer’s a bitch. I’ll kill Jake, ride my bike to mom’s, grab my phone and car keys, drive to the party. If the police try to check out my alibi they’ll get nothing from mom. When they check your phone they’ll see you called me at seven-thirty, and you’ll verify we had a conversation, and you reminded me of the time.”

“Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t.”

“The reason most people get caught is they trust the wrong person to do the killing. In your case they’ll check to see if you’re having an affair. You’re not, right?”

“We’ve been through this. I’ve never been unfaithful.”

“And you haven’t met anyone you’re interested in.”

“Not yet.”

“And you’re not paying me, so there’s no transfer of cash from your accounts.”

“Right.”

“And you haven’t bought any insurance on Jake in the past five years?”

“Nope.”

“And you haven’t been fighting?”

“Nope.”

“He’s never hit you?”

“No.”

“Never cheated on you?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So there’s no motive for you to kill him, and no motive for me to kill him.”

“Correct.”

Milo pauses.