I said, “Hi. I’ve been hoping to talk to you, but I didn’t know how to get in touch. What’s your husband’s first name?”

“Peter. We’re divorced. He’s in Reno.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

“Fine with me,” she said. She was wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a twinset of smoky blue cashmere. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, secured with a barrette. She selected a cantaloupe, sniffed it, and then tucked it in her cart. She moved on, pausing at the dairy case to check the expirationdate on a carton of skim milk, which she then placed in her cart. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, I’m curious. When I showed up in the office at Quorum High, didn’t it occur to you I might have been talking about Charisse?”

“Not at all. Why would it? She’s been gone for years.”

“I heard you were good friends.”

“I don’t know about ‘good’ friends. We hung out together some.”

“Did she say anything to you about leaving town?”

“I didn’t even know she was gone. It’s not like I saw her every day.”

“But once you figured it out, didn’t you worry about her?”

“Not particularly. I figured she could take care of herself.”

“Did you ever hear from her again?”

“No, but I didn’t expect to. That’s not how it was. I was a couple of years younger and we didn’t have much in common. I’ve lost touch with a lot of classmates I was closer to than her. Such is life.”

“You don’t seem upset about the murder. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Look, I’ll be honest. I’m sorry for what happened, but I’m not sad. Why would I be? I knew her four months at best.”

“Tell me about the friendship, such as it was.”

“I don’t know what to say. I thought she was funny. She didn’t care what she said and she really didn’t care what other people thought. I was feeling rebellious. She did things I didn’t have the nerve to do. I was a good girl. She was bad. I guess opposites attract.”

We turned left, ambling down an aisle stocked with canned vegetables, dried pasta, white and brown rice, and dried legumes. She picked up a package of lentils.

I said, “Do you know Pudgie Clifton?”

“Sure. He dated Justine.”

“How long did they go together?”

“A year or so, less. Personally, I thought he was a bum, but she liked him. Even after they broke up, they stayed friends.”

“He seems like an odd choice for her.”

“You should have seen the guy I dated. Talk about a misfit.”

“Did Pudgie know Cornell?”

“We all knew each other.”

“What about Frankie Miracle and Iona Mathis?”

“I’ve heard the names, but I don’t know either one.”

“Did Pudgie spend much time at your house?”

She seemed mildly baffled. “A fair amount. What makes you ask?”

“Do you think he could have stolen the Mustang from your father’s shop?”

I could see her consider. “It’s possible. He stole other cars back then.” She moved over to the shelves, choosing a can of tomato sauce and two cans of pork and beans.

“Did you suspect him at the time?”

“It might have crossed my mind.”

“Did you ever mention that to your dad?”

“No. I didn’t see Pudgie do it so why get him in trouble when I didn’t know for sure. I figured he was trying to impress Justine.”

“Hadn’t they broken up by then?”

“Well, yes, but he was hoping to get her back.”

“Did she know he took the car?”

“I don’t even know that. It’s just a guess on my part. I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“I think he not only stole the car, but drove up to Lompoc with Charisse.” I didn’t mention “dead in the trunk.”

“So what?”

“You never asked him if he knew what happened to her?”

“I’m sure if he’d known something he would have spoken up.”

“Didn’t anybody seem concerned?”

“Not really. Medora reported her missing so we all assumed the police would take care of it. I’m sorry if that sounds mean.”

By now she’d turned onto an aisle lined on both sides with freezer cases: ice creams, frozen pies, pizzas, and bags of frozen vegetables. Adrianne opened a glass door and removed a bag of baby peas.