the family murder case

We had recently started eating dinner with Ron more often, and it was already becoming a problem that her culinary horizons were very limited. We were accustomed to eating food from a different part of the world almost every night, but Ron didn't like to try any food that she'd never eaten before.

Tonight, Jan had suggested Indian food, Japanese food, Chinese food, and even Italian food, but Ron was very suspicious of them all, so eventually we ended up eating in the hotel dining room, where Ron apparently had all of her meals. As she said, "They already know what I like."

It was clear that Ron didn't think it was a good use of her time to have to train a new restaurant staff.

Of course, in some ways her tendency toward intransigence was reassuring, at least to me. At her age, some people are already impatient to start dating, but Ron wasn't interested in that. She scoffed at the very idea that she would ever go on a date.

This was somewhat of a relief, since I wasn't sure how I would feel about having a bunch of prospective suitors hanging around. One hardy soul had already asked her to a movie, and she had (from what we heard) dumped a bottle of ketchup on his head.

But I was aware that this would all change at some point. I wasn't exactly ready, but I was trying to prepare myself. I remember my sister, when her oldest daughter had been around Ron's age, saying, "She's ready to start dating. The boys are ready for her to start dating. Apparently everybody is ready for this but me."

I knew how she felt.

We took a booth in the hotel dining room.

"Shall we go get the food?" I asked. I usually did this for my employer, since she couldn't carry a tray and have a free hand for her cane.

"Ron," she said, "let me see your hands."

Ron looked like she wanted to protest, but Jan slid her glasses down so she could give Ron a piercing look over the rims. Ron had already learned about that look, so she made a face and stalked off toward the bathroom.

I laughed. "I'll bet that doesn't happen when she eats with her friends."

My employer gave me the same stern look she had given Ron, including a glance at my hands, and I got up and followed Ron across the dining room.

She looked up as I came into the bathroom.

"She got you, too, huh?"

I clapped her on the back as I took the sink next to hers.

"You can't escape her eagle eye," I said, putting my hands under the frigid water. "Worse offenders than us have tried."

A few minutes later, as we started to eat, I said, "I was reading a report about the U-town school today."

Ron nodded, chewing seriously. She obviously thought this was idle dinner chit-chat.

"Ron," I asked. "How old are you?"

"Who wants to know?" she demanded around a mouthful of macaroni and cheese.

I leaned over and said, "I want to know. And don't talk with your mouth full."

She swallowed. "Almost thirteen."

"So," Jan said, "you're twelve years old."

She nodded.

"You need to go to school," I said.

She looked surprised. "I don't go to school."

Jan looked severe. "The statement, 'I don't have to go to school because I don't go to school,' is not logical, and in my opinion, the lack of logic illustrates that you need to go to school."

We went back and forth a few times, then I caught Jan's eye and we had a silent conversation. Put into words, it would have gone something like this:

Me: Leave us alone for a minute.

Her: What?

Me: Give me a moment–

Her: No. What are you up to?

Me: Trust me.

Her: Hmph.

Me: I know what I'm doing.

Her: Hmph!

"I have to step out for a moment, Ron," she said, getting to her feet. "I'll be right back." Her voice was pleasant, but she gave a bit of extra emphasis to the last two words.

As she limped off, Ron said, "It's funny when you make faces at each other like that."

"Thanks."

"So, what's the big secret?"

"Just a question." I put my arm around her shoulders and leaned over to whisper. "Don't you want to grow up to be like her?" I asked.

She looked around to make sure nobody else could hear, then she whispered, "Yeah."

"Well, she didn't get to be that way without going to school."

She frowned. "I can't go to school," she said after a moment's thought. "I have to deliver the mail."

"Tomorrow, after you deliver the mail, I'll go to the school with you. We'll get you enrolled, and I'll tell the school people that you can only come in the afternoons, because of your responsibilities."

"Okay," she said slowly. "I guess I'll give it a try."

Mr. Guthrie sat in a small office, behind a small and much-worn wooden desk, in the U-town school. He wore a dark suit and horn-rimmed glasses. He was balding, but his remaining hair was trimmed and neatly combed. I got the impression that he had been working here long before U-town had been founded, and had just stayed on.

"This is Ron," I said, indicating my rather sullen-looking daughter. Her freckled face was stern but clean, and I had made sure her thick brown hair was washed and brushed. Her clothes (denim jacket, sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers) were shabby but clean. I had told her it was important to make a good first impression. She hadn't been convinced, so I had had to insist.

"Ron's a new student," I explained.

"Ah, very good," Mr. Guthrie said, taking a blank form from one of the racks on the wall next to him. "First name?" he asked.

"Ron," she replied.

"Short for Veronica?" He asked with a smile.

"No, just Ron."

"I see. Last name?"

"Just put Ron. Everybody knows me."

"That may be, young lady –"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped.

His eyes widened. "Oh, I am sorry, young Ronald. I –"

I put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Ron is a girl, but she is not a young lady," I explained.

Mr. Guthrie wiped his forehead. "I see. However, gender aside, I do need to put a last name."

Ron looked thoughtful, then she glanced up at me. "What's your last name, Dad?" she asked.

"O'Connor."

She cocked her head to one side a bit and pursed her lips judiciously, making her look like a very small, very scruffy Jan Sleet. "That's alright," she said finally. "I was afraid it was going to be something stupid." She turned to Mr. Guthrie. "I'll use that."

"I see," he said. "Is she a transfer from another school?" He had apparently decided that it was a better idea to address the questions to me.

I shook my head. "She has not been going to school. I don't know for how long."

"Indeed. That is rather irregular." I had the feeling that, if I hadn't been part of the government, his disapproval would have been expressed more forcefully.

"Also, Ron will only be able to attend classes in the afternoons," I added. "She has important governmental responsibilities in the mornings."

He nodded, filling out a few more things on the form. His new plan seemed to be to process us quickly and get us, or at least Ron, out of his office as soon as he could.

"Now," he said, referring to a clipboard, "we just have to figure out the best class –"

"Don't put me with the stupid kids!"

"Heaven forbid. Here." He wrote something on a pad and handed it to her. "Take this to room 404 and give it to Mrs. Baum. She'll take care of you."

"See you tonight, Ron," I said.

She nodded, looked around as if a last-minute reprieve might appear, and then she left.

"Mr. O'Connor," Mr. Guthrie said, "I didn't want to ask in front of the young lady, but I'm a bit concerned as to whether she is... 'slow.' I ask because it is somewhat unusual for a child of her age not to know her own last name, or indeed that of her father."

"Oh, no," I said. "She's far from slow. She's just been feral for a while. You may find her a bit of a handful, especially with her language."

He shook his head. "That's not unusual these days. I've learned some words this semester that I never heard before in my life, and I served in the Navy."

"Also, Mr. Guthrie, to be clear, we don't want you to try to civilize her or clean her up. Just educate her."

"Mr. O'Connor, I would count even that accomplishment as a tremendous achievement."

It was clear that she idolized my employer. I had chuckled at Jan's frustration that I wouldn't tell her how I had persuaded Ron to enroll in school. She thought I was keeping it a secret to get back at her for all the times she had withheld information from me. But it was really because the answer would have fed her ego, which I felt was quite well fed enough as it was.

"Marshall!"

I turned, surprised. I had been lost in my thoughts, and it had only been long habit that had kept me on course for the hotel.

To my surprise, I saw Jason Garland trotting up behind me. He was a college professor we had met during an investigation a few months before.

"Jason," I said, holding out my hand. "I–"

"I'm going to the hotel," he said quickly. "I have to talk to you and Jan. Erika's been arrested for murder!"

I motioned and we started out again. We walked at a good clip, and we got there in a few minutes. I was curious about the details, of course, but I didn't ask. There was no point in making him tell it twice.

In the lobby, my employer seemed to be mediating a disagreement of some sort, and I motioned to Jason that he had to wait. He was quite agitated, and I thought that it would do him good to take a breath and relax. There were about six or seven people crowding around my employer, and I watched this scene with interest. She was somewhat taller than any of them, and she caught my eye and winked.

The dispute was apparently about a debt that either had been paid in trade, or hadn't been paid at all, and there was also a disagreement about the original ruling in the dispute, which had been handed down by Teddy, the bartender at Theodore's.

I wanted to tell them that Teddy was well known to be as crooked as a hyena's back leg, and anybody who went to him to judge a case was crazy (unless they'd greased him ahead of time), but of course I kept mum.

As we waited, I wondered how Claudia Forrester had ended up involved in another death.

The Forresters had been one of the richest and most influential families in the area of the city which had become U-town. They had lived there since the previous century, when it had been a very posh neighborhood. As it had gradually become a slum, though, most of them had moved away, eventually leaving Claudia, the younger daughter, living in their once-elegant (and now increasingly shabby) townhouse by herself.

Her income, whatever it was (and I was certainly not privy to her finances), had not turned out to be adequate, so she had started to rent out rooms. She had rented one to Jason Garland, and another to Ryan, who had died in her bedroom under mysterious circumstances. Jan had solved that case, which was how we had met them.

Erika, who was apparently now an accused murderess, had lived there as well. When Claudia had left town, Erika had gone with her. Jason had stayed in the house, agreeing (from what we'd heard around town) to pay rent to Claudia. He had started to rent rooms to college students, with the understanding that he wouldn't rent the rooms which had belonged to Claudia's parents.

Eventually, my employer got the disputants to agree to have their whole case judged again at Duffy's bar. It was a matter of policy that we didn't rule on civil cases that had already been decided, but it sometimes took a bit of diplomacy to get things resolved.

The parties headed off to Duffy's, and my employer limped over to us. "Jason," she said, "you look like–"

"Erika's been arrested for murder!"

She disliked being interrupted, but that was outweighed by her excitement that someone was bringing her a mystery to solve. She led us into the dining room where we sat at a small table.

"Who, what, where, when, and how?" she asked as I lit a cigarette for her.

He took a deep breath. "Claudia's nephew, with a knife, in her bed. Erika's bed. At Claudia's parents' house. I don't know what the police are claiming for a motive, but it's bogus, because she didn't do it."

"And you've brought this to us for what reason?"

He eyes widened in surprise. "To get you to go and find out who really did it. I–"

She nodded. "Then please take deep breath and calm down. I will ask you eight questions. One: how did you hear about this?"

"One of my students, who knows I rent the house from Claudia, he heard something about it on the radio. The family–"

"Two," she said firmly. "Have you spoken to Claudia?"

"I called the house, and I spoke to Claudia's mother, very briefly. I told her–"

"I'm not interested in what you told her. The important information is going to flow the other way. Three: Is Erika under arrest?"

"Mrs. Forrester said the police were–"

"Jason, please. Take a deep breath. Has she been arrested? Has she been charged? And, if she has been charged, with what? That's questions three, four, and five. Facts only, now."

"I'm sorry, I–"

"The correct answer to all three questions is 'I don't know,' isn't it?"

He seemed to deflate a bit. "Yes."

"Alright," she said, leaning back. "We make progress. Three final questions, then. Six: Does Claudia want my help? Yes or no. Seven: Does Erika want my help? Yes or no. Eight: Does Claudia's family want my help? Yes or no."

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I assume they do."

"That's a big assumption. Assumptions. Well, here's what I propose. Go to your office, where you will have access to a telephone. Call the Forrester house. Try to talk to Claudia or Erika, if available, or at least to somebody in the family. Find out as many facts as you can. Promise nothing. Find out who, if anybody, explicitly wants my assistance. If we come there, will they put us up? Oh, and get current train schedules. We will meet you at your house this evening, and then we will make plans.

"This is, I agree, apparently a very serious situation. She may even be guilty." He started to protest, but she ignored him. "But this is not an emergency. Even if she has been arrested, she will not be charged, tried, convicted, and executed in the next few hours, or even the next few days. If the Forrester family is behind her, it will be months, or years, or never. So, we can operate calmly and rationally. Agreed?"

He nodded.

"Oh, and you can let them know that, if we do come, there will be three of us."

He looked up.

"Marshall, myself, and somebody for security," she explained, stubbing out her cigarette.

He nodded.

She smiled. "Well, he's a college professor, not the tremulous heroine of some nineteenth-century novel. He looked like he was about to succumb to an attack of the vapors, whatever that is."

"Or brain fever."

"Exactly. My professional diagnosis is that he needs to buck up."

"So," I said idly, "I guess that's why, if we do decide to go, he's not coming with us."

She laughed. "Don't be disingenuous. You know very well that we're going. And you're right, not with him."

The next morning, I looked out the window as the train sped along. It was a rather dreary, overcast day, and I wasn't paying much attention to the scenery.

I have spared you a detailed report of the events of the evening before, when we had met with Jason Garland at his house. It had been a busy night, but here was the situation:

We were taking the train to the town where Claudia's family lived. Jason had referred to their house as a "mansion," but we didn't know how accurate that was. Claudia and Erika were eager for our help, and it sounded as if they had convinced the family to put us up.

It turned out that the victim hadn't been Claudia's nephew at all. Apparently he had invited several friends to visit his family for spring break, and one of them had been the victim.

Christy had agreed to be our security again, as she had been during the college case, but she was traveling there on her motorcycle. My employer had thought it was important to have her able to be mobile if needed. Christy had been very agreeable about coming with us; apparently she had found it enjoyable to work with us in the past.

"We need to talk to Vicki," my employer said, "to tell her the arrangements..." She frowned. "What?" We had just arrived back at the hotel after making our plans with Jason and then with Christy, and I tilted my head to indicate the far corner of the lobby, where Ron was standing, pretending to study the menu on the wall by the dining room entrance.

Jan nodded. Ron had never looked at a menu in her life, as far as I could tell, and in any case this one was three weeks old.

So, my employer went off to hunt up Vicki to let her know that we were leaving in the morning. I walked over to Ron and clapped her on the back. "I'm glad you're still around," I said. "Want to get a piece of pie?"

She shrugged. "Okay."

We went into the nearly-deserted dining room, and I managed to come up with two pieces of pie, and a cup of coffee for me. Ron was as adamantly opposed to coffee as she was to dating.

It was late, and I was tired, and we had to leave early in the morning to get to the bridge and get the car to the train, but it was important to spend some time with Ron at that moment, because it had been her first day of school, and because we were going away.

So, we had a very enjoyable and relaxed time, including sharing some ice cream after Jan joined us. We found out that Ron's first day of school had been "okay," and further investigation had revealed that she had liked history but hadn't liked math, and that she'd only had to beat up two kids. The last was (we managed to discover) because she had been lording it over some of her peers that they had to attend school and she didn't. So, they had made fun of her for becoming a student after all. She bore no scars or bruises that I could see, so I guessed that these altercations had been a bit less violent than she had described.

She was a bit disgruntled that we were going away without her, but we told her we'd be back as soon as we could. Even apart from her school and postal responsibilities, I cringed at how Claudia and Erika, let alone Claudia's family, would have reacted to Ron.

So, after agreeing to walk to the bridge together in the morning, we went off to bed.

In the morning, we observed something I'd never seen before (because I had never been at the bridge at that early an hour). We saw all the trucks coming over the bridge with various kinds of produce for U-town's meals. And there was a crowd of people with various kinds of carts waiting on our side of the huge piling that blocked the bridge. It was very interesting to watch the very efficient way it was all done. This was obviously a daily occurrence, with a practiced amount of arguing, haggling, sampling, and swearing.

It ended up that we had to walk halfway up the bridge to get to the car when it arrived, since it couldn't get any closer because of all the trucks.

I didn't ask Ron if she wanted a goodbye hug (she would have refused, especially with so many people around). I just hugged her, and she hugged me back, secure in the knowledge that any objective observer would have been sure that this had been my idea, not hers.

She smiled. "I'm just being nosy. What were you thinking about?"

If she had asked the question differently, I would have teased her that she was the detective and she should be able to tell me, but instead I held out my arm and she leaned against me, resting her head on my shoulder. She took her glasses off and put them into her jacket pocket.

"Two different things," I said. "I'm thinking about Ron, for one."

"You're a dutiful dad. What were you thinking?"

"I'm just wondering how we can let her know how serious we are about her. And not just by telling her, which she won't believe, but by what we do."

She put her arm around me and squeezed. "Does she still worry that we'll back out, do you think?"

I nodded. "Yes. She tries to hide it, but I can tell."

"What's the other thing?"

"I'm thinking about Claudia and Erika. I wonder how they're getting along with Claudia's parents. I don't know about Claudia, but I can't imagine it's what Erika wants. She seemed very happy where they were."

As I said, we had met Claudia and Erika when one of Claudia's lodgers had died by violence in her bedroom. He had been her lover before that, but that relationship was over, so there were a few mysteries. My employer solved them, which resulted in Claudia's newer relationship ending. Not too long after that, Claudia and Erika had left U-town, and she had leased her house to her remaining lodger, Jason Garland.

I remembered Claudia, Erika, and Jason describing the events around the death to us in the living room. Erika had seen Claudia's reluctance to return to the bedroom, and she had offered to take us up and show us the scene of the crime.

As we ascended the stairs, Erika said, "Thank you for not pressing her for the sordid details. It's... she's not comfortable talking about..."

"Her lovers."

"Yes. It's just the way she is. Her brother was an alcoholic, and her sister ran off with a boy and got pregnant, years ago, and she – Claudia, I mean – is quite proud that her family never talked about any of it."

"She seems rather conservative, compared to–"

Erika burst into laughter. My employer frowned, and I knew she had not anticipated this reaction. We were at the top of the stairs by then. There was one door there, presumably to the parlor. Erika led us down a narrow, gloomy hallway to the other door, which she opened with a key.

"She brought me up here to admire the view, the night I met her, the day I arrived in town," Erika said as she led us into the large bedroom and turned on the lights. "The next thing I knew, she was embracing me from behind as I looked out the window, That startled me, and when I turned, I realized she... had removed most of her clothes. The next thing I knew, she was removing mine as well, saying that she was sure I would want a relaxing bath after my trip, and–"

My employer held up a hand. "I get the picture. You became lovers."

"That's how it was for a while, but she likes to go out to parties and openings and shows, and I don't really, so... I ended up living in the room downstairs, and I take care of the house. I'm not a tenant, like the others. I've never paid rent.

"Claudia doesn't like confrontation, and she doesn't like to be explicit about things. I knew that, and I made it easy for her. And she's always been very sweet to me. When she gives parties, I'm the hostess, just like before. She always praises my cooking, and she never flirts with anybody if I'm around."

Erika waved as I helped my employer down from the train. She smiled as she hurried down the platform to us, and I was glad she had apparently come alone to pick us up. She was usually more forthcoming when Claudia wasn't around.

A half dozen other passengers had got off the train. Some were being met, and there were also a couple of cabs waiting. There was no station building, just the two platforms and a small parking lot. The sky was still overcast, but at least it wasn't raining at the moment.

Erika squeezed Jan's hand and craned her head up to kiss me on the cheek. I noted that she had gone rustic to some extent. She wore sturdy walking shoes, and her skirt and jacket were tweed, over a simple yellow sweater. There was a plain gold chain around her neck, and she wore pearl earrings. She had blonde hair and pale blue eyes, and she was probably around twenty-five.

"I don't see any guards or shackles," my employer observed with a smile.

Erika laughed. "I was never arrested. Jason just overreacted. But we'll tell you all about everything after you're settled."

As we negotiated getting our luggage to her car (and Erika nearly carried the largest suitcase herself, until I managed to grab it first), Jan said, "I hope this isn't a problem, but I would really like to eat before we go to the house. That was a long ride, and I get light-headed if I go too long without food."

This was typical, I thought, as I worked on keeping a straight face. It was completely true that my employer needed to eat on a regular schedule, and one of my main duties was making sure that this happened, but she never mentioned it to other people.

That is, she never mentioned it when it was actually true, and we'd had sandwiches on the train. But she was perfectly willing to use it when it served her purposes. Which it did right now, since she wanted to get all the information she could out of Erika while it was just the three of us.

I wasn't sure how Erika would react to this, but she smiled and nodded. "That would be fine. I'll just call the house and tell them we'll be a while. It will be good to catch up on things."

There was a pay phone on the platform, and Erika walked back to use it as we stood next to the car, which was a large, black luxury sedan.

I felt a bit embarrassed at how much luggage we had brought with us. On one hand, my employer's self-confidence led her to think she would be able to wrap this up quickly. On the other hand, she wanted to appear at her best in front of the Forresters.

"I did realize we were that close with Erika," I said quietly. "She seems really glad to see us."

"She is. And we will find out why very soon, but I'll hazard a guess that you're right. However Claudia feels about being back with her family, Erika is not happy here."

Erika smiled sheepishly as she came back to the car. "I'm sorry for fawning all over you both," she said as I helped my employer into the passenger seat.

"We're here to help," Jan said, taking out her cigarette case, "and we're glad to see you, too." I got into the back seat as Erika started the car, which purred with quiet power, as though it could have jumped over the train station if it had felt like it.

Erika pushed in the cigarette lighter in the dashboard and we pulled slowly out of the small parking lot and onto the road. It was a narrow two-lane road, and we drove without seeing any other cars for several minutes, curving around a large hill, and then down into a valley and around a reservoir.

"It is nice to see friendly faces," Erika said as Jan lit a cigarette for her after lighting her own. "Thanks. And I warn you that I may gripe a bit at the restaurant. Even apart from the murder, it's not been easy going."

"With Claudia?" Jan asked. That was a bit blunt, I thought, but it was the right thing to say, since Erika laughed.

"It is such a delightful change, I must say, to be around people who actually say what they mean. And, no, not with Claudia. Not that I ever get a chance to show it, except in private, but I'm very happy with her, and she seems happy with me. But I will admit that I'd be happier if we were back home, in our home, and I think she would be, too, but... Well, we talk about it a lot."

She sighed. "Just between us, she's trying to figure out what to do with her life. And she feels really uncomfortable to be thinking about that at her age." She smiled. "Not that she's that old–"

"Oh, come on," my employer said with a laugh. "She's ancient. She may be even older than Marshall here." We all laughed as my wife turned in her seat to wink at me.

"Perhaps," Erika said, "but they're both pretty well preserved."

"True. What do Claudia's parents think about this? Usually people don't want their adult children moving back home."

She shrugged. "Her mother would be very happy to have us stay here forever, though she does want Claudia to start doing something. She goes on and on about how well Claudia did at school, all the different classes she took, how good her grades always were, and so on. I think that, in her mother's eyes, Claudia is the last hope of her generation in the family to do anything worthwhile."

"Which is a wonderful position to put Claudia in, of course."

Erika nodded. "Of course."

"You want to go back to U-town, don't you?" I asked.

She smiled. "Of course I do. I didn't go to U-town to meet Claudia, after all. I went there to be there, to see it and to live there. She was there already, and it happened around her, and she was never completely comfortable there."

We pulled into the parking lot of an elegant-looking Italian restaurant. I got out of the car and helped my employer to stand.

The restaurant was large and fairly dark, and as far as I could tell we were the only customers. This was good, if we were going to really pump Erika, since the waiters wouldn't be trying to hustle us out. I did hope that the food would live up to the decor.

The maitre d' came over and got us seated, and we declined the offer of wine or cocktails. I had a strong impression that Erika was a regular and valued customer (or, probably, the Forresters were).

"May I start by complaining some?" Erika began. "Or are you impatient to get to the actual mystery?"

Jan laughed. "Please, complain as much as you want. We are not at all impatient, and in any event all sorts of things may prove to be relevant. I was saying to Marshall before that I don't know how Claudia feels about being back home, but I had the feeling it might not suit you."

"She says I'm too sensitive, but it's just got worse." One server brought us a pitcher of ice water, and three glasses, and another brought a loaf of fresh Italian bread (I could smell it even before it reached the table), and then another server (I wasn't sure who ranked where, but they were all men) brought a large plate. He placed it in the center of the table, and then he poured olive oil into it. A fourth man came and ground pepper into the olive oil from a huge mill, until Erika nodded that it was enough. I took a piece of the warm, soft bread, dipped it into the oil, and then ate it, and my expression apparently told the tale.

Erika smiled. "This place is wonderful. We usually eat at home, but whenever we eat out, it's almost always here."

"Quite a change from U-town," I commented as they tried the bread. U-town had, in general, the best food I've ever eaten in my life; but service was frequently somewhere between eccentric and nonexistent, and even the best restaurants looked like they'd bought their fixtures at a rummage sale. I don't think there was a restaurant in U-town where the chairs all matched, for example.

Erika waited until the servers were out of earshot, then she continued. "When we got there – 'the refugees,' as her mother calls us – we were never asked about our preferences in sleeping arrangements. Claudia moved back into her old room, and I was given a guest room." She shook her head. "I'm sure it didn't take long for everybody to figure out that I was sleeping with her every night, but that's never mentioned. They just ask me if my bed is comfortable, and whether the morning sun bothers me, and so on.

"They even ask us whether we met any nice, respectable men in U-town. I just want to say, 'I'm sleeping with your daughter, you stupid woman!' But of course she's not stupid, and she knows the truth, but she will never say it. They even call me her assistant sometimes."

"Which is an honorable thing to be, of course," I put in.

She laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, covering her mouth. "I didn't mean–"

We were all laughing by then, and I said, "My point is just that relationships can be complex and not easily summarized in a single word."

"True." She made a face. "But I know you want to hear about the murder, and I'm avoiding talking about that. Because I'm the one who found the body. In my bed."

"Indeed," Jan said, lighting a cigarette. "Is that why you were a suspect at first?"

"Yes, and I'm pretty sure I still am. I'd been sleeping with Claudia, and I got up early to go back to my room to shower and get dressed." She shrugged. "I always used to get up early to make breakfast, and I still do, though I can't cook anymore. And, when I got to my room, I saw a body in my bed, and there was blood..."

This was all out of order, but it was obvious that she needed to get this part over with.

"I screamed, I think, and people came running. I don't remember much after that, but apparently I was screaming for Claudia, so someone got her, and she took me to her room.

"I was a mess for most of that day, and Claudia stayed with me and took care of me, and eventually she made me eat something. That evening, I pulled myself together and went downstairs.

"The police had been, of course, and they had wanted to ask me questions, as you can imagine, but Mrs. Forrester had sent them away. She carries a lot of weight in this town, and she had told them it was crazy to think that I'd kill somebody, and that she'd call them when I was well enough to talk to them. So, I'm grateful to her for that, at least."

Apparently seeing that we were going to be taking our time, the waiter brought over a large platter of antipasto. With that, plus the delicious bread and olive oil combination, I wouldn't have minded if we'd never actually ordered any food.

I did glance at the menu, and I realized it had no prices. Erika's menu was somewhat larger, so I assumed hers showed the prices. As the representative of the Forrester family, they had assumed she was the head of our party.

"Don't worry," she said, smiling. "The family never pays cash anywhere around here. They just sign for everything, and somebody goes around once a week or so and settles up. I can sign for this; they know me here."

My employer turned to me. "Erika thinks she is still a suspect. Is she being followed?"

I nodded. "I believe so. There were two men on the platform when we were at the train station, but they didn't meet anybody. Their car pulled into the parking lot here a few minutes after we got here. It's possible–"

My employer touched Erika's wrist as she started to turn toward the window. "It's considered bad form to look," she said quietly.

"It's possible that the person they were meeting missed that train, and they came here to have a drink in the bar while they waited, but the next train would have arrived a few minutes ago, and their car is still here." I shrugged. "Not conclusive, but a pretty good bet."

"I'm not surprised," my employer said. "The police have a dead body, and I'm sure they're going to pursue the investigation however they can. Claudia's mother called them off, but that only applies to things that she can see."

"Unless it's reporters," Erika said. "Shit." She covered her mouth again. "I'm sorry."

"They didn't look like reporters," I said. "And they didn't react to the arrival of Jan Sleet as reporters would have. I think they were detectives."

The waiter came over. "Is everything satisfactory, miss?" he asked Erika. I wondered if he even knew her last name, then I realized I didn't know it either.

"Everything is fine, Joseph," she said, smiling. "We'll order in a while."

"That's fine, miss. Would you like some more bread?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful. It's so good."

My employer nodded, wiping some olive oil off of her fingers. "Molto buono," she said.

He smiled and bowed. "Grazie."

"Di niente."

"You speak Italian?" Erika asked as Joseph went off, gesturing that more bread was to be brought to us.

My employer smiled. "It was my first language. My first foreign language. When I was in high school, my father was taking night classes at a local college, to get his degree, and we decided to learn Italian at the same time. His family was Italian, and he always felt bad that he didn't know the language, so we studied it together, and we tried to speak only Italian around the house. Which was difficult, as you can imagine, at least at first. It must have worked, though, since he's been a professor at an Italian university for many years."

I chuckled. "When they get together, it's always a battle, since he is eager to speak English for a change, and she's eager to speak Italian, so inevitably the conversation goes back and forth like a tennis match."

"Do you speak Italian?"

I shook my head, and Jan said, "What do you expect, he's a Mick. And he doesn't even speak the Irish language." She did speak it, more or less, but I think she felt that would have seemed like boasting to mention it.

We all laughed, and I said, "The only language I can make my way around is Portuguese."

Erika frowned. "Portuguese? That's an odd choice."

"Not really. We've spent a lot of time in Bellona, and they speak Portuguese there."

"I see," Erika said. She shrugged. "That shows how much I know. I always assumed they spoke Spanish."

"That's the most common misconception about Bellona," Jan said, "so don't feel bad about that. But we should–"

Erika shook her head and sighed. "I'm avoiding the subject, I know."

"Well, how about this?" my employer said. "Who was in the house that night? Give me a picture of the scene."

Erika sighed. "It was the third day that Bobby had been there with his friends. It was really uncomfortable, at least for me."

"In what way?"

"There were three friends, three boys. I got the idea that they didn't actually like Bobby that much. But they had the opportunity to stay in a mansion, to eat good food, to ride horses and swim and so on."

"So, they were just taking advantage of Bobby?"

"Well, that's the way it looked to me."

"Was this the first time you'd met Bobby?" I asked. "The semester must have already been in session when you and Claudia got there."

"Oh, no. He's been coming home most weekends. Mrs. Forrester said how nice it was that he was coming home so often."

"And, if I might possibly be inappropriate," I said, which made them both smile, "the main activity that people seek over school breaks isn't usually horseback riding or swimming..."

They laughed as more bread arrived, and more olive oil was poured, and more pepper was ground.

"Well," Erika continued after a moment, "the boys have been pursuing that activity as much as they can. I gather the more attractive servants have not been immune."

"Immune to advances, or have they been succumbing?"

She shrugged. "Based on how the boys talk, they've been having some success."

"But boys are not always the most reliable reporters of their own rates of success, especially in that area," I added.

"True," she said with a smile. "In general, I didn't try to find out, because I didn't care."

"Understandable." my employer, "but it might be significant now."

"You and Claudia are both attractive," I put in. "Were either of you the object of any unwanted attention?"

Erika blushed. "Claudia wasn't. She's Bobby's aunt, and I think 'aunt' makes boys like that think you're old. And she was not... She was polite with the boys, but not friendly."

"But you had no such protection, of course," my employer said.

"No, unfortunately. And it was pretty obvious that Freddy had his eye on me. If he'd ever made a pass, I could have taken him aside and told him I was in a relationship, but he never made a move. And it's not something I felt comfortable just mentioning."

"Do you think Bobby ever told his friends about your relationship with Claudia?"

She shrugged. "I don't think he knows. He and I used to talk quite a bit when he was there on the weekends, and I dropped some hints, but I don't think he caught the drift."

"Who else lives at the house? Who else was there?"

"James, Claudia's brother. I think his name is really Jameson, or possibly that's just a reference to how much he drinks." She shook her head. "I'm no expert, but if he's not an alcoholic then I've never seen one."

"Violent?" my employer asked.

"Oh, no. He's supposedly writing some sort of history of the family, but mostly I think he sits alone in the library and drinks. Oh, I'm making it sound worse than it is. I know he does read in there, but sometimes I think he watches television instead."

"He's in there all day?"

"Oh, no. He usually gets up around eleven, and most often he joins us for lunch. But he starts drinking in the middle of the afternoon, and he's usually 'too busy with his work' to come to dinner."

"What about Mr. Forrester?" my employer asked. "You haven't mentioned him at all."

"He hasn't been there much."

"He doesn't live there?"

"Officially? Yes. But he obviously spends most of his nights somewhere else. Based on what Claudia has told me, he's shacked up with his secretary or somebody like that."

"Have you seen him at all?"

"Oh, yes. He's there for dinner every few days. But that's about it."

"Has he been there since the murder?"

"Almost every day. For solidarity, I guess, though Mrs. Forrester has handled the police."

"What about Bobby's mother?"

She shook her head. "I haven't seen her. I think she lives nearby, but she never visits."

My employer nodded and lit a cigarette. "Interesting," she said.

"This Freddy you mentioned, was he the one who was killed?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Tell me about the other two boys."

"Their names are Nate and Ricky."

"Are they still there?"

She nodded. "The police said they can't leave the area. It may get sticky for them if it goes past the weekend, because they're supposed to be back at school next Monday."

"The police won't care about that. How have they reacted..."

She stopped because Erika's attention was suddenly focused on something outside the window. We looked also, and it was clear that she was reacting to a car across the road, waiting to pull into the parking lot.

"That's Mrs. Forrester's car," she explained, frowning. "I wonder what's happened..."

Her voice trailed off as the big black car abruptly lurched forward, cut across two lanes of traffic and made its way into the parking lot, trailing a chorus of honking horns and driving over a small curb before finally pulling up next to the car we'd arrived in.

"Of course," Erika said happily, "Mrs. Forrester is a much better driver."

Claudia emerged unsteadily from the car, which had come to rest at an angle, spanning two parking spaces. She closed the door, then she opened it again to get her purse. She ran a comb through her somewhat windblown hair, and lit a cigarette.

"She almost never drives," Erika said as Claudia made her way to the restaurant door. She was dressed similarly to Erika, but her sweater was a dark blue that went well with her dark hair and eyes.

"Marshall won't let me drive," Jan said. "That's probably about how I'd be."

Claudia came up to our table and sat down next to Erika.

"Has something happened?" Erika asked.

Claudia shook her head. "No, I just had to get out of the house." She looked up at us. "I'm being rude and melodramatic, for which I apologize."

The waiter came over and said, "Miss Forrester, would you like something?"

She looked distracted. "An espresso, I guess."

"Very good. And for everybody else?"

We all agreed, and a few minutes later four espressos were brought over, along with a large plate with a wide variety of miniature Italian pastries. Claudia was still looking thoughtful, so Erika said, "Thank you, Joseph."

He smiled and withdrew.

"As I say, I'm being rude," Claudia said, looking at us. "Jan, Marshall, I can't tell you how much I appreciate you coming here to help us with this." She smiled. "This doesn't benefit you in any way, whether or not this is solved, so I really appreciate the effort."

Jan smiled. "Claudia, you're our friends. We couldn't sit by and let Erika be accused of a crime without taking whatever steps we could."

This was more or less hooey. We had liked Claudia and Erika when we'd met them, but we hadn't become friends with them. We hadn't even known they were leaving U-town until after they were already gone. But you can't really say, "Claudia, I don't care about you at all, but you're involved in a murder that needs me to solve it, and I'd go almost anywhere for that."

But by now it was obvious that we had another agenda as well, which was to get Claudia and Erika to move back to U-town. My employer disliked waste, and I could tell that she thought they were wasted here, and that they could contribute a lot if they came back.

"Claudia, I don't mean to sound like a tourist bureau," my employer said, "but have you given any thought to moving back to U-town?"

Claudia looked thoughtful, as if she was not sure this was appropriate. But, as she had just said, we had come a long distance to help her.

"Yes," she said, "we have talked about it. But I really don't want to think about where to live until I've figured out what I want to do."

Jan smiled and said, "Si je m'habille parfois un peu trop, d'avoir parfait un surcroît d'éducation le fait oublier aux yeux du monde."

Claudia shook her head. "I'm reasonably certain that there are already French translations of Oscar Wilde. I don't–"

"I'm not suggesting that. I think you should be a teacher."

"I do hate to disappoint you, but I don't really care for children."

She shrugged. "Neither do I. Except for my own, of course. But 'education' doesn't automatically mean children. We have adult education, and we need a lot more."

"Don't you need some sort of certification or a specialized degree or something like that?"

"Not for our school."

Claudia looked thoughtful, and Erika took her hand. "You should do this," she said quietly. "We should do it. We should go home, to our home, and live in your parents' rooms. That's what we should do."

Claudia looked both surprised and pleased at this sudden vehemence from Erika. Erika's smile was broad, and Claudia's lips moved as she tried to control her own expression. She turned to us, still holding Erika's hand. "Apparently I don't have much choice," she said. Then she frowned thoughtfully. "Also," she said slowly, "I do think a better translation would be 'S'il m'arrive de porter des vêtements d'une excessive élégance, c'est que mon éducation l'est tout autant.'"

Jan inclined her head in agreement.

"You have a child?" Claudia asked in some surprise, as if Jan's earlier comment had just registered with her.

"I do. We do. And once you meet her, you'll be glad you decided to teach adults."

Claudia sighed. "This is all quite cheery, of course, but shouldn't we worry about solving the murder first?"

"I've been telling them all about it," Erika said.

"Any theories?" Claudia asked.

"Claudia, I do have an idea," Jan said quietly, "but I think you already know the answer, don't you?"

Claudia frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I think you do. I know the answer, and I have to–"

Erika turned to Claudia and demanded, "Do you know? Do you know who... who did that? Who murdered that boy in my bed?" Her voice was insistent, though by the last sentence she was whispering.

Claudia took her hand. "She's right. I do have an idea, though I didn't want to think about it. I'm sure it's occurred to my mother as well." She turned to Jan. "Are you going to explain it?"

Jan shook her head. "You should tell her."

Claudia took a deep breath, turned to Erika, still holding her hand, and began.

"Bobby has a crush on you." She spoke quietly, her body turned to face Erika as if we weren't there. "Everybody's seen it but you. Why do you think he suddenly started coming home every weekend? He made himself ignore our relationship, and of course my mother helped." She paused for a moment, and I wondered if she was going to say something about her own role in the deception, but she didn't.

"He's never been happy." She waved her free hand. "I don't want to get all psychological, but you can imagine, with his parents and everything.

"At dinner that night, it was more and more obvious that Freddy was attracted to you, and Bobby was jealous. Freddy apparently decided to take the direct approach, to wait for you in your bed. Some men think that's attractive, or maybe they hope the convenience will be a factor, but he was that type. Very self-confident. Unlike Bobby."

"And remember that Freddy was staying in Bobby's room, and Bobby was drunk. I assume that Bobby wondered where Freddy was, and either he figured out that Freddy was making a pass, or one of his 'friends' told him, and maybe they teased him, and he went to take out his frustrations.

"You were so upset the next day, you didn't see anybody. But I saw Bobby for a few minutes, and he was nearly catatonic. Far more upset than he would have been just because Freddy was dead – as you noticed, they didn't even really like each other. And I'm so sorry I never mentioned this–"

"I know," Erika said. "You were protecting Bobby. I understand."

"No, you don't, not really." She cupped Erika's hand between hers. "I was protecting him, which I know was wrong, but I was protecting you, too. If you had known, you would have wondered whether you were responsible in any way, which you weren't. You would have wondered what you could have done differently, to prevent it from happening." She glanced at us for a second. "As you are all aware, I know how it feels to be in a position like that, and I didn't want you to ever feel that you might have had any responsibility for what happened. Which you don't, of course, but logic doesn't always help when you're in that situation."

Claudia's turned to us, but Erika reached for her and Claudia turned back to embrace her.

When they turned to us, Jan said, "We can't cover this up. I can't cover this up."

Claudia nodded. "I know. He's not well, but he doesn't belong in jail."

"Agreed, but we need to talk to your mother, and–"

Claudia shook her head. "No. Tempting as it is to have you do this for me, I should go and talk to her–"

"We will go talk to her," Erika said abruptly. "You and I."

I expected Claudia to protest, but she smiled. "Yes. Of course."

"Before you go," Jan said, "I'm going to be very blunt about a couple of things, so there is no possibility of confusion. Mrs. Forrester needs to arrange for Bobby to be committed to some sort of appropriate institution, or I will have to act. Not just therapy or counseling or anything on an outpatient basis. He needs to be helped, on a level commensurate with his illness, or I will see that he gets arrested, which will almost certainly mean that he will go to jail.

"I agree that he is unwell, and that he is not a professional criminal. But he knifed a friend of his to death, on the basis of an adolescent infatuation, a 'relationship' which existed only in his mind. He cannot be allowed to be free until he is better.

"Of course, the U-town hospital is an option. We have facilities for people in his situation. But, no matter what, the authorities need to be involved. I imagine that your mother, if she initiates things, will have enough influence to affect where he ends up. However, I also want to be blunt about the fact that, though she is used to getting her own way, there is no lever she can use which will budge me."

"Are you going to wait while we go and settle this?" Claudia asked as they stood up.

"Of course. I have to know what the decision is."

"We'll come back as soon as we can. I would ask you to come with us, but there is a very strong reason that I would prefer you to stay here. There are some reporters who hang around outside the gate, hoping to get some tidbit of scandal. Even so, eventually the story will start to die down. However, if they should see you, you can imagine the headlines. 'Jan Sleet steps in to solve local mystery!' You can imagine."

My employer nodded, though no imagination was involved, since we'd had exactly that experience, more than once.

"Do you mind waiting?" Claudia asked. "The food here is wonderful, but it could be a while."

Jan took out her pocket watch and consulted it.

"Oh, that's elegant," Claudia exclaimed. Jan held it out for them to examine. "Was it your father's?"

Jan smiled. "No, my father is a college professor, but he came from humble beginnings. This was given to me by one of my professors when I left school. He had been falsely accused of something, and I had cleared him." She smiled. "He wanted me to stay and complete my degree, but solving that case convinced me all the more that it was time to leave."

This was why she had brought out the watch in the first place, of course, for it to be admired. She knew about as much about the train schedules as she did about the exact distance to the moon.

As they turned again to go, Jan said, "There is a very attractive redheaded woman sitting at the bar out front, drinking a club soda. She is wearing a motorcycle jacket. Please ask her to join us."

They looked surprised, but they didn't ask any questions.

A moment later, Christy came from the front of the restaurant, through the arch which separated the bar from the restaurant proper. She was carrying a club soda. There were a few other people in the restaurant by then, though I had barely registered their arrival.

Three people came in right behind Christy, an older couple with a teenage girl. She saw Jan Sleet across the room and let out a high-pitched squeal, pointing at my employer, much to the embarrassment of her (perhaps) grandparents, who made sure they took a table some distance away from ours.

Christy sat down, a big grin on her face, and said, "So, we're going to stay here all day? What about this mansion you promised me? I thought I'd be lounging next to the pool by now."

"In this weather?" my employer asked.

"I've been meaning to speak to you about that, too."

We all laughed, and the Jan said, "Well, the short story is that the case is solved. The murderer was Claudia's nephew. Claudia and Erika have gone to see Claudia's mother to figure out how to handle his situation. And his condition, since he is not well. Then they will come back and tell us what has been decided."

The waiter came over and deftly removed the stack of menus which had been on the end of the table, replacing them with a different stack of menus.

"We will probably be ordering soon," my employer said.

He nodded and withdrew.

"So, the case is solved? We're just waiting and going home?" Christy asked.

My employer smiled and lit a cigarette. "Afraid so. No lounging by the pool."

"Oh, drat. And I brought my bikini, too."

So, we gave her the more detailed description of what had happened, and in the middle of that we ordered dinner. It turned out that the substitution of menus had been in order to remove the one with the prices, apparently because Claudia and Erika were gone. So, we ordered in blissful ignorance of what all of this was going to cost the Forrester family.

When the story had been told, Christy looked thoughtful.

"Questions?" my employer asked.

She nodded slowly, looking out at the dreary weather. "Yes, but in a minute. Not just yet." She turned back. "Let's talk about something else, while I wrestle with this."

"Well, we could show you pictures of our child, but we don't have any, and you already know her."

Christy nodded. "And I must say that it has surprised a lot of people that you've adopted her as you have."

Jan spread her hands wide. "She selected us. We didn't have any choice in the matter."

"Actually," I said, "we had all kinds of choice. We chose her, just as much as she chose us."

"Jan," Christy said, "let me make one comment, from a mother's perspective. You can joke like that, and we three all know that you're kidding, just like you know I'm kidding about the bikini. But Ron doesn't know what we know, she's just a kid. And, as I say, lots of people are surprised that you've adopted her, and they may even point this out to her. So, just be aware of how things may appear from her perspective."

Taking criticism was not always Jan Sleet's strong suit, but she looked quite struck by this as the servers started to bring the soup.

After we'd eaten in silence for a few minutes (the minestrone was excellent, and there was more of the bread as well), Jan said, "Christy, that was a very good point. It reminded me of something from when I was young. I was raised by my father, as you may know. My mother had some... difficulties, and she left us when I was very young.

"But it wasn't until much later, when I was in college, that I thought back and remembered how careful my father had always been about what he said about my mother in front of me. They were high school sweethearts, they ran away together when she got pregnant, and then she... well, she became unstable, and she ran away. Leaving Vinnie and me. But he never complained, he never blamed her. It meant a lot to me when I figured out what he'd been doing all those years. And I have not been careful enough about what I have said to Ron, and in front of her. Thank you for pointing that out."

The servers were removing the empty soup bowls and bringing on the entrees. Christy either didn't care for Italian food or wasn't in a mood for it, because she'd ordered a steak, and the minute I smelled it I wished I'd ordered one as well.

"So, Christy," Jan said as Christy took her first bite, "you've had a while to think. Have you come to any conclusions?"

"Yes. Either I'm crazy, or you flimflammed Claudia. You had no idea who killed that boy, but somehow you thought that Claudia knew, so you tricked her into telling Erika."

I smiled. I had been rooting for Christy to figure this out. I had known it from the beginning, but I had some advantages over Christy.

Jan nodded. "You're right. And it was rather neatly done, too, if I say so myself."

"I guess so. It seems like cheating, though. Do you mind telling me why you did it? And how?"

"Of course not. Which would you prefer first: 'why' or 'how'?

"How, I guess."

"I took a chance, frankly. But the way Claudia arrived here: hurried, harried, discombobulated. Why so frazzled? Why so desperate to be here? Why so rushed that she even drove herself? Erika told us that she almost never drives, and the evidence certainly supported that assertion.

"Was it that she didn't trust Erika? That didn't seem likely. Did she think Erika was guilty of something? Definitely not, or she would have declined my offer of help in the first place. They have seen me solve a case before, and they would never have agreed to my coming if either of them was guilty, or if either thought that the other was.

"But it did appear that Claudia was nervous about something that Erika might reveal to me, perhaps something she wasn't aware of herself.

"And then, I got lucky. When Claudia arrived, Erika said she'd been telling us 'all about it,' which was an exaggeration. So, Claudia didn't really know how much I knew. And then, when I took a chance and confronted Claudia, it was Erika who put the pressure on her to explain what had happened."

"But what if you'd been wrong?"

"Then I would have looked foolish. Not for the first time and not for the last. It is far from my favorite position to be in, but there are worse.

"Which brings us to 'why.' One of the reasons I was willing to risk looking foolish was that this gave every evidence of being a case with a deranged killer. And that meant it was quite possible he would kill again, at any time, and it was worth risking looking foolish to expose him now, not three days from now or whenever I had completed a thorough investigation.

"As Claudia pointed out, one of the worst feelings in the world is to have someone die and to think that you could have prevented it if you'd done something differently. I've felt that, and I've made a fool of myself, and the two feelings are not comparable."

"And there was another reason," I added, "though much less important."

She nodded. "Yes. I wanted to go home, and so did Marshall. I really like Claudia and Erika, but spending several days with the Forrester family just sounded more and more dismal. We have a country to help run. And a daughter who just started school."

"And she would never say it," I added, "tough little egg that she is, but she really didn't want us to go."

"You two have gotten so domesticated," Christy said with a laugh. "How are you going to go speak at colleges if you can't leave Ron?"

Jan shrugged. "Oh, we can leave her. She's not a baby. But I think it's better when we can tell her in advance when we're coming back. And right now is a particular time, because she's just started school and we want to make sure she continues to go. If we're not there, habit will probably take over and she'll stop going."

"And there's no guarantee that we will have to leave her every time we want to travel," I added. "After all, who's going to say no if we decide to take her out of school for a few days? We couldn't bring her here; Mrs. Forrester would have taken one look at her and locked her in the stables with the horses. But colleges are different. I don't think she'd hurt any of those college kids too badly."

So, we talked pleasantly for a while longer, drank more espressos, considered various rich desserts which we couldn't possibly have consumed, and finally we were again alone in the restaurant.

I was starting to wonder when they closed, and whether they were staying open now just for us, when I saw Mrs. Forrester's car return to the nearly-deserted parking lot, where it again parked next to the car we'd arrived in.

Two men in dark clothes got out of the front and opened the rear doors for Claudia and Erika. I thought for a second that they were plainclothes detectives, but then I realized they were servants. As Claudia and Erika walked to the restaurant entrance, the men opened the trunks of the two cars. I also realized that the car which had brought the (presumed) detectives was no longer in the parking lot. I had seen it while we were eating dinner, but now it was gone.

Claudia was looking somewhat grim and thin-lipped as they walked toward our table. Not unhappy, but I could tell she'd been through an ordeal and was working at keeping herself under control. Whatever the cause of her distress, it clearly wasn't her companion, since she walked with her arm around Erika, who somehow managed to look exhausted and upset and supremely happy all at once.

I brought over another chair from an adjoining table (I wondered for a moment whether the waiters and servers might have all gone home) and they sat down.

I only realized later that we never introduced Christy to them. She had been sitting with us for so long, I had forgotten that they had never really met her. Apparently, in their view, she was "the help," and therefore introductions were not appropriate.

"How did it go?" Jan asked.

"First of all, when does the next train leave?" Claudia asked.

I checked my watch. "Twenty-one minutes."

"I will tell you the very short version of the story, then we should catch that train, and then I can tell you all the details at our leisure."

"You're going with us?" my employer said with some surprise.

"Yes, we are returning with you tonight, to U-town. Our luggage is in the car." She held up a hand. "The case is resolved. Bobby is in custody, and he is certainly on his way to an asylum or some similar establishment. He confessed, in the hearing of witnesses, and then he... he suffered a..."

"He freaked out," Erika supplied quietly.

"Hush," Claudia said gently, kissing her on the forehead. "He became enraged and somewhat inarticulate, and attempted to attack or molest Erika."

"She decked him," Erika said happily.

"That is a vulgar and melodramatic way of putting it–"

"But not entirely inaccurate," I said, noticing the state of her knuckles.

"Not entirely inaccurate," she admitted. "I will just say thank God he didn't reach her, because I can't imagine what could have happened. The state police were called, my mother's lawyer came, we all gave statements and signed them. So, we are free to go, and go we shall." She stood up. "I do want to catch that train."

After a quick ride to the train station, in a small procession comprising two luxury cars and a single gleaming motorcycle, we reached the moment I had been dreading: the unloading of the luggage. Christy and I assisted the two chauffeurs (or whatever they were), despite a disapproving look from Claudia. She kept her arm around Erika's shoulders, and Erika's degree of shell shock was indicated by the fact that she didn't even try to help us.

"I'm a bit concerned," I said when we were done, "about how we're going to get all of this luggage off the train when we get there, and then get it into the cars or cabs or whatever we can get."

"I can help," Christy said.

"You're going to get there ahead of us?"

"This train is a local, right?"

I nodded. "There are no expresses at this hour."

She grinned. "Piece of cake."

My employer tapped my shoulder. "On the train, I'll need my notepaper, my pen, and an envelope."

"Stamp?"

"No, we're going to hand-deliver it."

The train was nearly deserted. I pulled one of the seat backs into the opposite position, so we could all sit facing each other. Claudia immediately took one of the window seats and lit a cigarette. With no ceremony, Erika kicked off her shoes and lay across the seats (on that side of the train, the seats were wide enough for three people). Her back was to us, and her head was in Claudia's lap. Claudia smoothed her fine, blonde hair, and then she rested her hand on Erika's shoulder.

I never asked, of course, but everything about Claudia's attitude since they had returned to the restaurant led me to think that, while they had been gone, Claudia had realized that the murder victim could easily have been Erika instead of Freddy.

My employer sat opposite Claudia and lit a cigarette. As I sat down beside her, we exchanged a glance which nearly sent us both into giggles, which shows how tired we were. We had both thought of how I would have looked, curled up on the seat with my head in her lap.

In fact, my guess was that before the end of the trip, I'd be at the window with her head in my lap, which turned out to be accurate.

Claudia missed all of this, though. She was still looking down at Erika.

Then there was the sound of a motorcycle engine revving as the train doors closed. Claudia glanced out the window as Christy roared out of the parking lot, at the exact moment the train started to move. She shook her head, then she turned to us.

"So, I assume you want more details about what happened."

Jan nodded. "It doesn't need to be exhaustive, but a bit more than I know now." I could tell that this was largely a formality. She had already lost most of her interest in this case.

"I told my mother what you had said, and she insisted that we had to have a 'family meeting.' She couldn't locate my father, or Bobby's mother, but she got James and Bobby. Then there was a procedural question, since she didn't want Erika to be there, but I insisted.

"Then I started repeating what I'd said before, apparently with the idea that Bobby should be able to defend himself. As if our pathetic little family meeting was a court of law or something.

Well, it didn't even get that far, because Bobby started protesting that we didn't understand how he felt. It quickly became incoherent, but he made it clear that he had killed Freddy, and that he was now thinking that he should have killed Erika as well, since she..." She looked down at Erika, who was still awake.

"He became abusive," she said. "But he still wanted to press his case. James realized Bobby was going to attack Erika before I did, but he tripped over a footstool when he tried to get between them. My mother sat in her chair and yelled orders, and you can imagine how effective that was at that moment. Then Bobby went for Erika, and I got in the middle and I protected her.

"I'll make the rest of the story brief. Bobby collapsed. James called the state police, which was a good idea, since it took it out of the hands of my mother's pet sheriff. He gave them a fairly complete summary over the phone, which also limited her ability to affect the situation. The police came. My mother's lawyer came, and so did an ambulance. They strapped Bobby to a stretcher, but he wasn't going anywhere. He was completely unresponsive. My mother tried to order some people around, but nobody paid much attention to her. We all made statements and signed them, as I said. I can't imagine Bobby will ever be able to stand trial, so I think that's it.

"And, after that was done, it quickly became obvious that it would be better all around if Erika and I left right away. So, we did."

Jan nodded. "Thank you." She glanced at me, and I got her briefcase from the overhead rack, taking out her notepaper, her pen, and an envelope.

She lit another cigarette and looked out the window for a moment, holding her writing supplies in her other hand. She always liked to compose notes and letters in advance, before she started writing, so she wouldn't waste any of her special notepaper. It was very light gray, lined, and at the top it said simply, "Jan Sleet," and under that it said, "U-town."

When she had finished writing, she put the note in the envelope, addressed it, sealed it, and handed it to me. It was addressed to Stuart Anson, our lawyer. I put the pen and notepaper away, then she said quietly, "I outlined the case, and asked him to follow it for us, just in case there are developments."

Then, as the train pulled into a station, she and I switched seats and she did stretch out, with her head in my lap. The conductor came around as the train pulled out of the station, and he noted our perhaps-inappropriate use of the seats, but he didn't comment. It was the middle of the night, after all, the train was mostly empty, and we were well-dressed and obviously respectable.

I dozed fitfully for the rest of the trip. Whenever I did wake up for a moment, as the train stopped at a station or went around a curve, Jan and Erika were asleep, but Claudia was always awake. She was usually looking out the window, often smoking, her hand always on Erika's shoulder, her thoughts obviously a million miles away from whatever was visible in the early morning light outside.

Christy was there when we pulled into the train station, and she had already arranged for a small van to transport us (and all of our luggage) back to U-town. She rode ahead of us as we drove to Stu's office building, where I jumped out and left the letter with the doorman. Then we worked our way through the morning traffic to the bridge. It was late enough by then that most of the trucks were already gone.

As we crested the bridge and drove down the far side, I felt like we'd been gone for a week.

Then I saw two small figures sitting on the huge piling that blocked the bridge. I poked my wife, but she had already seen. They were sitting close together, but not touching. Then, as they heard the van approach, they turned around to look, and one of them gestured at the other. When the latter didn't respond quickly enough, Ron (for that's who it was) shoved him with both hands, hard, and he went flying off the piling and vanished.

I hoped he was okay, but there was no further sign of him as Ron quickly got up and climbed over the piling to greet us.

"Mom! Dad!" she called, running over to us as we got out of the van. She hugged each of us, then we introduced her to Claudia and Erika. She greeted them politely, shaking their hands (she even wiped her hand on her jeans before offering it), and saying how nice it was to meet them. My employer and I could barely keep a straight face at this uncharacteristic politeness. But obviously in her mind she'd been caught doing something wrong, so now she was on her best behavior.

I wondered if this young man had been the one who had received the ketchup hair treatment. If so, I admired his resolve. He was going to need it.

Claudia and Jan smoked while the rest of us unpacked the van and stacked the luggage by the barricade. I realized that, though Ron and Christy were both helping, Ron never addressed her. If she had a question, she spoke only to me or to Erika. For some reason, her temporary bout of politeness didn't extend to Christy. It wasn't until later that I found out why.

Then, the luggage unloaded, the driver paid (and tipped handsomely, since he'd helped a lot with the luggage), and the van gone, I turned to Christy and said, "On your way home, can you snag a runner and get a couple of luggage carts–"

"Are you in a hurry?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Then I'll come back with the van," she said. She got on her motorcycle and roared off. Claudia, Erika, and Jan were talking and smoking, and I went and sat next to Ron, who had resumed her seat on the piling.

"So," I asked Ron, "did you miss us?"

"Nah. You weren't gone that long."

"True."

"Did Mom solve the case?"

"Of course."

She nodded, as if this was no surprise.

"I did want to mention one thing, Ron," I said.

"Sure, Dad."

"I know you said you were never going to date–" She made a face at the repulsiveness of the idea. "–but, you know, sometimes people do change their minds. Your mother and I, for example, we traveled the all over the world together, and people would always ask us if we were dating, and we would always deny it. We weren't dating, and we'd always say that we never would date, that we were perfectly happy how we were: employer and employee."

"Really?"

"Yes. And then we changed our minds, which turned out to be a very good idea. So, if you ever did want to change your mind, to date a boy at some point, that would be okay. Or a girl, of course."

"A girl?"

"Well, some girls date other girls."

"Instead of boys?" She shook her head. "That's weird."

"Don't say that too loud," I said quietly, gesturing at Erika and Claudia.

"What do you mean?" Her eyes got wider. "They're dating?"

"They live together. As a couple."

She looked at them thoughtfully for a moment, then she shook her head. "I still think it's weird," she said, nodding as if this settled the question.

"Well, maybe for you. But it's not weird for them."

She was not convinced. "When did you and Mom start dating?" she asked after a moment. "Why did you change your minds?"

I smiled. "That's an interesting story. But I think it will have to wait." I gestured back over my shoulder, where I had heard the mail truck approaching.

Ron glanced around, then she bawled "MAIL!" so loudly that Claudia fumbled her cigarette case, which would probably have fallen to the pavement if my employer hadn't grabbed it and handed it back to her.

The End

© Copyright 2010 Anthony Lee Collins. All rights reserved.