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a different motel. What was halfway between here and Lake Vista? There were some chains like Budget Lodge on Market Street, north of downtown. They might cut him a deal, like every seventh night free.
    I tried those first.
    Nothing.
    I remembered some cheesy motels on the old highway between Riverton and Lake Vista. His car was parked outside Room 20 in the second one I found, the Eaz-On Inn. I hesitated when I got to the door. What if he wasn’t alone? As I stood there, I began to have second thoughts. What if he just agreed to everything I said and then took off again as soon as I wasn’t looking? I might not find him next time. I stood outside his door a few seconds longer, thinking, then walked back to my car. Maybe there was a card I hadn’t played.
    I fell asleep again, trying to finish my homework at the kitchen table. The recycling truck’s clanking bottles woke me the next morning. My neck was stiff and I was hungry. I sliced an apple and fixed some cereal. The milk was sour, so I put a couple of spoonfuls of yogurt on the cornflakes. It tasted annoyingly healthy. I added some blackberry jam. I wondered what Hubie was having. And then I wondered about Marco. Had I seen any food in his house?
    Mom padded into the kitchen in her pajamas. She looked all wooly, like she had been hibernating.
    â€œYou want some yogurt?” I asked.
    She stood in front of the refrigerator, not opening it.
    â€œI could make you a sandwich, if you want peanut butter and honey,” I said.
    She shook her head and walked back down the hall toward the bathroom.
    When I heard a door close, I went across the driveway to Mr. Bellarmine’s. Why couldn’t my dad be more like him?
    He opened his door in a blue plaid robe over a white dress shirt, already sort of duded up. “What’s happened?” he asked, concern in his voice. “Are you two all right?”
    I realized that he knew Dad was gone, though I am sure no one had ever told him. I also realized the recycling truck came around before daylight, and that it must be close to six A.M.
    â€œYes,” I said. “Sure. Don’t worry. I, uh, I’m sorry I’m bugging you so early, but I just needed to ask you a favor before I went off to school.”
    â€œDo you always make social calls by dawn’s early light?” he asked, his eyes quickly making the trip from my hair to my wrinkled clothes.
    â€œNo. No, I’m sorry. I just woke up too. I’m going to change clothes,” I said, “but I need some help with something later today.”
    He looked stern but not angry, if that’s possible. He nodded.
    â€œThat guy you saw … the guy who visits?” I tried to keep my voice even, like this was the most normal request in the world. “If you get a chance, would you copy down his license-plate number?”
    He cocked her head and squinted at me. Curious.
    â€œUh, I just want to make sure he’s on the up and up. Uh, like with my mom and all.”
    â€œYou think he’s a drug dealer?” he asked.
    Sheesh! I hadn’t expected him to be so savvy. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. The thing is, I don’t like him here with my mom.”
    â€œI agree with your assessment,” he said. “Get on to school and I’ll set up an observation post.”
    Walking back to my house, I was trying to remember what work Mr. Bellarmine had retired from. Lawyer? Insurance claims? Whatever it was, it was no-nonsense.
    School on Friday was useless. My brain was a cement mixer, Marco-Mom-Dad-Vinnie spinning around in there. I hope I got through the surprise English test fifth period.
    First thing after school, I drove by home and checked with Mr. Bellarmine. No license number yet. He had gone grocery shopping and didn’t know if Vinnie had come by.
    Next, I went by Marco’s to make him answer my questions about his story. Nobody home.
    Nobody.

What a Party!
    When I got