I braced myself for the usual apology, the way Marlene would typically bow her head and start cleaning up the mess. But she didn’t move. She didn’t offer a smile. She simply looked up, her gaze steady and terrifyingly calm. She asked him to repeat himself, her voice devoid of tremor or malice. When James, momentarily confused by her lack of submission, hesitated, she leaned forward just an inch.

“Do you really want to go there, James?” she asked, her tone conversational yet lethal. “Do you want to talk about 1998?”