PROLOGUE

STURGES AND MARY BELLAMY ARE sitting in their library, a fire going, enjoying after-dinner coffee—espresso for Mary, who thinks sleep is grossly overrated. They’re watching Antiques Roadshow. Well, Mary is watching. Sturges is buried in his iPhone, no doubt checking up on stock prices. Or who knows what. He’s been so distracted lately. Dinner together is supposed to be inviolate, but the truth is they’ve both been so consumed with work—of one form or another—that sitting down to eat often seems like an afterthought. On-screen, the appraiser is discussing an Art Deco brooch.

“Isn’t that a striking pin?” Mary asks. She wears very little jewelry herself. Just not her style. Too ostentatious. She pats at her hair.

“That primavera was delicious,” Sturges says.

“Sarah does such a good job. I think it’s time to give her a raise.” Mary loves to give their employees raises. The ones who deserve it, of course. One must never reward substandard work. Standards are everything in life. Standards and discipline. And kindness, of course. Kindness is the language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see. Mark Twain said that. Such a wise man.

The phone rings. Sturges mutes the TV and answers it. “Oh hi there, Frank.” He turns to Mary. “It’s Frank Simmons.”

Mary looks at him blankly.

“He runs Dakota Salvage for us.”

Of course—their vast salvage yard in Fargo. What could he be calling about at this hour?

As Sturges listens, his face grows serious and pained. Then he hangs up.

“What is it, dear?” Mary asks.

“Jerry Swanson, the foreman at the salvage yard, fell into the compactor today.”

“Oh dear. The poor man.”

“. . . his body . . . extracting it . . . ,” Sturges says, looking ill.

“We must send flowers.”

“He’s worked for us for almost a decade.”

“Was he a family man?”

“Wife and two daughters.”

“We’ll do something for them. Maybe a scholarship fund for the girls,” Mary says. She puts her coffee down, feeling a little queasy. After all, she considers their employees family. “Did you know him?”

“Met him a couple of times. Last year he gave me a tour of the yard with that banker from Minneapolis. Swanson was a good man.” He pauses. “He was trying to unionize the place.”

Mary tsks lightly. She and Sturges look at each other. “It’s a terrible tragedy,” she says.

On-screen, the appraiser is discussing a Civil War relic, a tattered American flag.