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is lucky, because Andy considers it a badge of honor to find a parking spot on the street. He says it’s because the parking lots are so absurdly expensive, but I don’t think that’s what it’s about. I think he relishes the challenge.

We finally find one, and when we arrive at the restaurant, a man in his forties is sitting at a table set up for three. He brightens when he sees us and waves us over. “Andy Carpenter, right? I recognize you from television. I’m a big fan; I admire what you do.”

Andy has made a number of TV appearances in connection with high-profile cases he’s worked on, but he’s not exactly mobbed by paparazzi when he walks down the street. That Steven Landry recognizes him does qualify him as a fan.

Andy smiles with as much modesty as he can, but doesn’t bother to introduce me. Steven doesn’t seem to mind or notice; his total focus is on Andy. If an ex-cop comes to breakfast and no one acknowledges him, does he make a sound?

We order breakfast, followed by some meaningless chitchat between them about New York traffic and Freehold Raceway. Steven says he lives just a few blocks away from the track, and Andy claims to have misspent his youth there. Less than fascinating stuff, but the pancakes are terrific.

“Small world,” Steven says, and Andy and I both nod in agreement.

“So, what could my mother have to do with Andy Carpenter?” Steven finally asks, continuing to pretend as if I am not here. I’m starting to wish I wasn’t here.

“We’re interested in learning about a friendship your mother had with a woman named Lisa Yates.”

Steven doesn’t hesitate. “Oh, sure, Lisa. Mom mentioned her a lot. She really liked her.”

“Do you know how they met?” Andy asks.

“Hmmm … I think it was on a cruise. Mom took a bunch of them after Dad died; she wanted me to go, but come on, a cruise with your mother?”

“You’re sure it was a cruise?” I ask, just to show I’m awake and present. Steven answers me, but continues to look at Andy. Maybe if I punch Steven in the face, he’ll notice me; at least it’s something to consider.

“Actually, I’m not. But I do know Mom liked Lisa a lot. I think she felt sorry for her as well; she described her as ‘troubled’ a few times.”

“Troubled how?” Andy asks.

“I don’t know; if she said, I don’t remember. But Mom saw herself as a healer; not a faith healer or anything weird like that, but she thought she could help people by talking to them, and by just being understanding. Mom was really good like that; she liked people and people liked her.” Steven shakes his head sadly. “I miss her every day. My dad too.”

“But no mention of anything specific?”

Steven thinks for a little while. “I think she might have said that Lisa fell in with the wrong guy. But honestly, I could be wrong about that too. Mom had a lot of friends, and she seemed to attract needy people. She believed everyone had good in them; it was just hard to let it come to the surface and stay there.”

“Your mother sounds like a good person,” I say.

He nods. “She really was. I thought she’d be lonely once Dad died, but she kept up these friendships. I kept in touch as much as I could, but we all have lives, you know? And then one day it’s too late.”

“Were a lot of her friendships through email?” Andy asks.

Steven laughs. “Oh, yes. Mom really latched on to emailing. She was old-fashioned about a lot of things, but when it came to emailing, she was one of those early adopters.”

“Were you able to notify all of those people when she died?”

He nods. “Every one of them. Took a while, and a lot of them wanted to talk, share memories, that kind of thing.”

“Was Lisa Yates one of the people you notified?” I ask.

He hesitates for a second. “I’m sure she must have been. There were so many I can’t remember. And some of them I just knew their email addresses, not even their full names.”

“That must have been some job,” Andy says. “I guess you just searched through her emails and replied to the most recent one from each person?”

Steven nods. “Yup. Took most of a day.”

We’ve run out of questions at the same time we’ve run out of pancakes, which is a happy coincidence. We thank Steven for his time and head for the car. Luckily it hasn’t been stolen off the street and sent to a chop shop while we were at breakfast.

Once we’re on the West Side Highway heading home, Andy asks my impression of Steven and the interview.

“Seemed like a friendly, nice guy. And I think he was lying through his teeth.”

“You’re not as dumb as you look.”

“So you thought he was lying also?”

Andy nods. “Except for the part about how much he admires me.”

I’M shocked that Andy also thought Steven Landry was lying.

First of all, Steven was pretty good at it. He came across as friendly, helpful, and sincere, at least on the surface. And Andy gave no indication that he disbelieved him. I hope that I didn’t either.

“What made you distrust him?”

Andy shakes his head. “You first.”

“Okay. The guy’s mother just died, and this famous criminal attorney—”

“That would be me, in case you’re scoring at home.”

“—this famous criminal attorney, Andy Carpenter, who he has on this pedestal for some bizarre reason, starts asking him questions about a relationship his mother had. Not once does he so much as hint at any curiosity as to why said famous criminal attorney is asking the questions.”

“He could have been awed by me.”

“As are we all. But the part that got me was his story about how he notified all his mother’s friends that she died by returning their most recent emails.”

Andy nods his agreement, so I continue, “First of all, how did he even get into her

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