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silly. Of course I was twelve and Jessie was probably a hundred and twelve. Ha-ha.
    She got him his coffee and me my Cherry Coke, and after we’d taken our first sips, he said, “So what’s all this insanity stuff?”
    â€œRemember at Brokedown House you found that little game piece on the path that you didn’t know what it was?”
    â€œYeah. Hollow tube thing.”
    I pulled the Mr. Perrin tube from my pocket and put it in front of him.
    Dwayne held it up, inspecting it. He had really nice hands with long fingers, a pianist’s hands, or, I guess, a master mechanic’s. “The one I found had a woman’s head.”
    â€œNiece Rhoda.”
    â€œAnd this one’s—?”
    â€œMr. Perrin.”
    â€œGo on.”
    Then I took Artist Geroge from my other pocket. “This one’s the tube I found over at Crystal Spring. It was behind the tin cup in a kind of stone alcove. It was missing from Mary-Evelyn Devereau’s Mr. Ree game.” I leaned in closer to him so no one else would hear. “It was missing from mine too. My Mr. Ree game. And so’s my Niece Rhoda tube. Like the one you found. What I’m wondering is: was that the one you found?”
    â€œAnd somebody stole it and tossed it on the path? Is this the insane part of the story?”
    Nervously, I nodded. “Was it me? Could I have done that and not remembered?”
    â€œNo.” Dwayne was turning Mr. Perrin in his fingers. “You never forget anything . Better if you did.”
    â€œBut the point is if I was insane —” I whispered the word, not wanting to give it too much life.
    â€œIf you were insane, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You wouldn’t be sane enough to wonder if you weren’t.” He drank his coffee.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œWhat about that ditzy brother of yours?”
    Will? Ditzy?
    â€œHe could’ve taken those game pieces.”
    â€œBut he didn’t know I was going to Brokedown House.”
    â€œHe was over at Mirror Pond, you told me. Where that murder happened.”
    â€œOh, Will’s too busy with their production to be playing tricks.”
    Dwayne guffawed. “From all I’ve heard, I’d say your brother is never too busy to be playing tricks.”
    I considered that, knowing it was probably true.
    He said, “Besides you, who else knew what was in the toy chest?”
    â€œIn mine?”
    â€œYours and what’s-her-name’s. The little drowned girl?”
    â€œMary-Evelyn Devereau. I don’t know about hers. But mine, I think Ree-Jane’s been into mine, from something she said.”
    â€œWell, there you go.”
    â€œYou think it was her?”
    â€œCould be. After all, she’s jealous of you, so it would seem likely she’d want to mess with your mind.”
    â€œJealous? Of me ?”
    Dwayne turned upon me a look of surprise. “You tellin’ me you don’t know that? For God’s sakes, you’re a ton smarter than she is, and she knows it; you’ve practically got yourself a whole career in reporting going, which must really get her goat; and you’re prettier. Of course she’s jealous.” He was getting out some money.
    I sat there, gape-mouthed.
    â€œCome on, I gotta get back to that Mercedes.” He left a tip on the counter. “Some of us have to work for a living.”
    I slid off my stool, complaining. “I work for a living.”
    â€œOh yeah. Sure you do.”
    And we argued back and forth across the tracks and the highway about working for a living.
    I really wanted to discuss my being prettier than Ree-Jane.

11
    â€œN o’d bye nd neep nold—”
    I was on the Britten’s Market bench, listening to Ulub practice his elocution.
    â€œFirst thing people notice is how you say your words. For instance, ‘ask,’ not ‘ast.’ ”
    Somehow I felt “ask” was light-years