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it upstairs. “The little one,” he added, digging deeper.
    “I see. Eight o’clock. He get a taxi out front?”
    Nick saw the trap. They’d already asked the reporters.
    “A taxi?” he said, pretending to be puzzled. “No, he went out the back. He always does that when he doesn’t want to talk. To the guys out front. You know.”
    The policeman smiled. “No, but I can imagine. Must be like living in a fishbowl here sometimes.” This as a kind of apology to Nick’s mother. “Well, we don’t want to bother you,” he said again, as if he really meant it. “Oh, Mrs Kotlar, one last thing? You didn’t go to the United Charities ball last night?”
    “No.”
    “You and your husband were in all evening, then?”
    He saw his mother waver again.
    “We played Scrabble,” Nick said.
    “Oh yeah?” the policeman said, friendly.
    “I won,” Nick said, wondering if it was another trap. Who would believe that? “My dad lets me win.”
    And then they were gone, in a small confusion of thank-yous and promises to call, swallowed up by the reporters’ hats outside.
    “That was Dad,” Nick said flatly when he heard the door close. His mother looked at him nervously, afraid to answer. “Is he all right?” She nodded.
    “Would someone like to tell me what’s going on around here?” Nora said. “Making cereal,” she added, scoffing.
    But his mother’s eyes were filling with tears. “Do you think they knew?” his mother said to him. “I tried—”
    “No, just me,” Nick said.
    “What?” Nora said again.
    “She’s worried about Dad,” Nick said, answering for his mother. “He said he’d be back for lunch.”
    Nick’s mother looked up, helpless to correct him.
    “Lunch,” Nora said, working at a puzzle.
    The phone rang again and Nick’s mother slumped, covering her eyes with one hand. Nick nodded to Nora, who raised her eyebrows and answered it. He led his mother to the couch, sat down beside her, and put one arm around her shoulder.
    “When is he going to come back?” he said, almost in a whisper, so Nora wouldn’t hear. His mother shook her head. “But he has to,” Nick said.
    “He’s not coming back, Nick,” his mother said wearily. “I wasn’t sure until now.”
    Nick looked at her in confusion. “The police will come again. He has to be back before that. They’ll look for him.”
    His mother put her hand to the side of his face, shaking her head. “It’s just you and me now. You don’t have to lie for him, Nick. It’s not right.”
    But she still didn’t understand; her mind was somewhere away from the immediate danger. “He was here last night,” he said, looking into her eyes. “You have to say that.”
    “What are we doing to you?” his mother said in a half-whisper, still holding the side of his face.
    “Call Uncle Larry,” Nick said.
    “Larry?”
    “He’ll know what to say. Before they come back.”
    His mother shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, dropping her hand.
    “It does. They’ll blame him. Where is he?”
    “I don’t know, Nick.”
    “I’m good at secrets. I’ll never tell. Never.”
    “So many secrets,” his mother said vaguely. “You don’t understand. I don’t
know
.”
    “But he’s safe?”
    She nodded.
    “Mr Welles won’t get him?”
    She looked at him, and then, as if she were starting to laugh, her voice cracked and she sobbed out loud, so that Nora looked over from the phone table. “No,” she said, her voice still in the in-between place. “Not now. Nobody will.”
    “Why not?” Nick whispered, his voice throaty and urgent. “Why not?”
    Then she did laugh, the other side of the crying. “He’s gone,” she said wispily, moving her hand in the air. “He’s fled the coop.”
    Before Nick could take this in, Nora loomed in front of them, her face white and dismayed.
    “I’ll take her upstairs,” Nick said quickly. “She’s upset.” It was his father’s voice.
    Nora stared at him, more startled by