Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 140, No. 5. Whole No. 855, November 2012

The first character Michael Z. Lewin created, back in 1969, was Albert Samson. Samson’s debut case was intended to be a short story but grew into a novel. The Indianapolis private eye most recently featured at novel length in 2004’s Eye Opener, but he was last seen in the December 2011 EQMM story “Who I Am,” with a client who claimed to be an extraterrestrial. Samson and his eccentric client are back this month, in an adventure that’s laced with Michael Z. Lewin’s wry humor.

1.

It seemed like the rain would never stop. I was getting cabin fever and I wasn’t even in a cabin. Had I ever been in a cabin? I mean, a cabin? I couldn’t remember one. I wanted to go to a cabin. Experience Cabinness. Be thoroughly cabined. The rain seemed like it would never stop.

I was bored. There is only a certain amount that a private investigator can do constructively when he is without clients, even in a fascinating, action-packed city like Indianapolis. I’d done it and it wasn’t even noon yet. We do get rains like this here, but not usually in November. Or is it common in Novembers? Had the incessant rain washed my memory away?

It was with pleasure that I thought I heard footsteps on my office stairs. Normally I’d dismiss such sounds as self-delusion — so few clients ever arrive without an appointment. And then there was the rain. I mean... could I really be hearing footfalls among the plops of those endless raindrops?

As it turned out, I could. There was a knock at my door. Even the most savage rain doesn’t do that. I dashed to respond. The last thing I wanted was for a prospective client to dissolve away.

The last thing I expected was to open the door and recognize the prospective client. My repeat clients always call, make appointments, even summon me to come to them. But then again, this prospective repeat client was not a normal kinda guy.

“LeBron,” I said. “Come in. Get out of the wet.”

I stood back but he didn’t cross the threshold. At first I thought he was being contrary, but then I saw it was hard for him to move at all. One arm hung loose at his side. His clothes were torn. He was standing askew.

“LeBron, what’s wrong?”

Faintly he said something. When I leaned forward and asked him to repeat it he said, “It’s Wolfgang now.”

It took awhile, but eventually I sat him in my Client’s Chair. He groaned with each step. I sat on my desk facing him. “How badly are you hurt?”

He didn’t respond.

“How badly are you hurt, Wolfgang? Should I call an ambulance?”

“We heal quickly.”

I didn’t like the way he held himself in my chair. I didn’t like the sound of his breathing. I didn’t like the sight of blood dripping onto my floor. I picked up the phone.

“No.”

“Yes.”

He passed out. I dialed 911.

2.

St. Riley’s emergency department was full, which surprised me. Ice and snow produce broken bones, but rain? What were they all here for? Near-drownings? Mold?

Whatever the answer, the emergency crew jumped Wolfgang to the head of the line. “So what happened to your friend?” asked the nurse when I followed him to a cubicle.

“I have no idea.”

“What’s his name?”

“Wolfgang.”

“Wolfgang,” the nurse said. “Interesting.” She turned to him. “Wolfgang, my name is Matty. Can you hear me?”

He made a sound. I couldn’t make out, like, a word, but Nurse Matty seemed happy with the noise itself. She turned back to me. “Has he lost consciousness since it happened?”

“He passed out when he arrived at my office, just before I called nine-one-one. Before that I don’t know.”

“How long ago did this happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know much, do you?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t.”

“Did you do this to him?”

“No.”

“You know that, do you?”

“He came to where I live, dragged himself up a flight of stairs, and knocked at my door. That was about...” I looked at my watch. “Fifty-seven minutes ago, when I called nine-one-one. I don’t know what happened before he got to me, where it happened, when it happened, or how he got to my place.”

“He’s... your boyfriend?”

“He’s not a friend of any description. Two months ago he hired me to do a job for him. I haven’t seen or spoken with him since.”

“That was September?”

“Yes. I finished the job for him in a day.”

“You’re not a plumber by any chance?”

“No. Sorry.”

She sighed. “So, why did he come to you?”

“Once you and your colleagues put Wolfgang Dumpty back together again, maybe he’ll tell me.”

“That’s his last name? Dumpty?”

“I have no idea what his last name is. When I worked for him he called himself ‘LeBron James.’ If he’s ‘Wolfgang’ now, chances are that the rest of his handle is Mozart. He has an interest in prodigies.”

“What’s all that supposed to mean?”

“He changes his name sometimes.”

“He changes his name?” She looked from me to him and back again. “Why?”

“I’d rather he told you himself.”

“Is he crazy? Is that it?”

“Personally, I think he’s unusually sane. But he does have some quirks.”

“You’re not helping me here.”

“I’m helping you as much as I can.”

“Does he have medical insurance? Wait, let me guess. You don’t know.”

“I can probably remember his address.”

“But he was rich enough to hire you for a day in September?”

“Yes.”

“Are you cheap?”

“I’m fabulously expensive and worth every penny.”

“A doctor will be here in a minute. I’m going to check his pockets now. They might have some ID that will help.”

She checked his pockets. They were empty. Which surprised me, because when he came to my office in September he was carrying a lot of cash. So maybe he’d been robbed.

“Go tell them what you can at the desk,” she said.

“And will you let me know when you find out what’s wrong with him?”

“You’re waiting around?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though you’re not a friend?”

“I give good customer aftercare.”

She made a face at me.

I left to deliver a second batch of “I don’t knows” at the reception desk.

3.

I expected to be left to my own devices in the waiting room for a long time but Nurse Matty came to get me less than a quarter of an hour after I picked a seat.

“You are still here.”

“Didn’t you expect me to be?”

“Not after we found your friend — no, your non-friend — has stab wounds.”

“That’s not nice.”

“No, it’s not.”

“And you thought I was the stabber and had made a run for it.”

“Look, can you come with me and go through what you know with our head of security?”

“While you wait for the cops to come and have me go through what I know with them?”

“Or hunt you down like a stray dog if you don’t stay. Your call,” she said with a bit of a smile.

“Why don’t you tell me something about Wolfgang’s prognosis.”

“The doctor found two wounds in his belly before I came to look for you. Neither looked deep or in a vital place, but they’ll take him up to an operating theater in a few minutes to make sure.”

“And has he said anything about what happened or who did it?”

“He’s been mumbling things. Maybe an old friend like you will be able to understand him better than I can.”

I followed Matty into the treatment labyrinth. I wasn’t sure what to tell the security people — or the cops. When I knew him, Wolfgang’s fickleness about names wasn’t his main peculiarity. That honor fell to his insistence that his father was an extraterrestrial.

But with me he behaved rationally and paid cash. By no means all the terrestrials I deal with do either.

The security guy was a woman who was taller, younger, and arguably more muscular than I am. She waited for me at the foot of Wolfgang’s bed, but as I was about to introduce myself, the patient spotted me and tried to sit up.

He said, “Albert.”

It was quiet but clear enough for Nurse Matty to ask, “Is that you?”

I nodded and went closer to his head.

“Four of them,” he whispered.

“Who were they?”

What he’d already said seemed to have left him exhausted. But then he made one last effort and said what sounded like “Terrorists...”

4.

Once the magic “t” word was passed on to the police, it wasn’t long before two officers in uniform homed in on me like I was the door to their future careers. By then, Wolfgang was in surgery.

I followed the cops to a visitors’ room, but it didn’t take long for me to repeat my collection of “I don’t knows”. However, it was long enough for Nurse Matty to stick her head in with an update. “Sorry to bother you, Officers,” she said, “but the surgeon upstairs believes that the two abdominal wounds were done with different knives.”

The uniforms looked at each other. I said, “How do you tell something like that?”

“Think about an ordinary knife,” she said. “One side sharp, one side blunt.”

“Okay.”

“And think about it being pressed through skin. Once the point goes in, one side of the wound is cut by the sharp edge but the other is just rubbed by the blunt one. Maybe torn open a little, but not cut. The result is that the two ends of the wound look completely different under magnification.”

“Sounds reasonable,” I said.

“Apparently one of the blades that cut him had two sharp edges, whereas the other had only one. That’s what he says. He also says that he can’t be completely certain without doing an autopsy.”

I leaned forward.

“But he doesn’t think it’ll come to that,” she said. “Oh. And they found another cut. On his back. Not as deep. He didn’t say if he thinks it was done by one of the original two knives.” She left.

“She says there were three wounds, not two?” the smaller of the two cops asked.

I nodded. Poor ol’ Wolfgang.

The smaller cop crossed something out in his notebook and wrote a correction.

The larger cop just said, “What’s he expect?” He was a big guy who looked the age and size of a high-school lineman.

“What do you mean?” his colleague asked.

“He said it was terrorists,” the lineman said. “If he’s going to mess with terrorists...” He looked from his colleague to me, for support.

I said, “If someone is attacked by terrorists, they’re responsible?” I shook my head. “You’re saying the nine-eleven people were messing with terrorists?”

“I just said...” the lineman began. But he stopped.

His colleague smiled and shook his head slowly.

I said nothing more. And at least they had treated me as a witness rather than a suspect, probably because Nurse Matty had stressed that I stayed around after Wolfgang came in.

But with the patient in surgery and the uniforms unable to think of more questions for me not to know the answers to, I began to consider leaving. It was then that a southside detective, Imberlain, showed up. So I got to do it all again.

By which time Matty had a further update. The surgeons had found a fourth cut. They were now putting Wolfgang’s spleen and liver back together. I decided to leave, at least for the time being.

I’d followed the ambulance in my car, so I had wheels. But instead of using them to go back home, I went to Wolfgang’s house.

Wolfgang had showed up at my office about eleven-thirty. Now it was nearly four, and still raining. I didn’t know when he’d been attacked by the “terrorists” but he’d been away from home for many hours.

When I got there, though, it didn’t seem like the house was empty. Through the rain I could see some lights on inside. But not behind curtained windows. I could see them through the wide-open door.

I parked and went to the porch. It was then that I discovered the door wasn’t wide open after all. It had been pulled off its hinges.

5.

I had no idea what Wolfgang had been doing in the two months since I’d last seen him. Then, he was hale and hearty — not a single stab wound. He had talked optimistically about the future, wanting to create a project to help the people he described as society’s “invisibles.”

And when I’d last visited his house, the interior was immaculate. Wolfgang — though then he was LeBron — had converted the conventional interior into a large space. He’d done all the work himself, having trained as a carpenter. As well, he’d painted pictures and designs on the walls. There wasn’t much furniture when I’d been there, just what a half-alien gentleman would use when living on his own.

But now, coming through the open doorway, I saw pieces of furniture everywhere. Most seemed once to have come from beds, and there were also mattresses ripped open.

This was clearly a matter for the police, though none were on the scene.

Which left me with a decision to make. I ought to call Imberlain, who’d given me his card. But my impulse was to call my daughter. She was a cop just off her probationary year. Sam didn’t work Southeast but Wolfgang’s house wasn’t far from the southwest sector where she did work. And she, at least, was used to me. She wouldn’t ask me endless questions about why I’d gone to Wolfgang’s house instead of going home.

“Why did you call me, Daddy?”

“You’re a cop. This is a police matter.”

“Call nine-one-one.”

“It isn’t an emergency. The house isn’t on fire. The front door’s been ripped off its hinges. The owner’s in hospital with four stab wounds. There are a few lights on, but I don’t know if anyone’s inside. I didn’t want to go in without somebody knowing where I am and what I’m doing.”

“So naturally you called me.”

“My daughter, the cop. Naturally.” I said, “I’m not asking you to drop whatever you’re doing and rush out here, but would you stay on the phone while I go in?”

“You shouldn’t go in. It’s a crime scene. You should call the police.”

“I did call the police. And what if someone’s in there, and injured?”

“Call three-two-seven-three-eight-one-one. That’s the number for non-emergencies.”

“I’m going in.” I was already inside the front door, but dwelling on details would be pedantic.

“Call the number, Daddy.”

“Just hang on while I look around.”

“Daddy!”

Slowly I walked into the middle of the open room. The room was chaos. A large television set had been tipped off its mounting. DVDs were scattered over a whole corner. In the kitchen area, large pans were on the floor. More and larger pans than I would have thought a man living alone would have. Mind you, there were pieces from a lot of beds — I counted what looked like half a dozen without trying. How many people were sleeping here? Had Wolfgang set up an open-plan B&B?

“Daddy?”

“I’m here, honey. Just hang on.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Please don’t do that.”

Given the beds, I was interested in what I didn’t see. Which was evidence of people — their bags, their clothes... Such things might be underneath the wreckage, but I saw nothing on top.

I made my way to the back door. That was still on its hinges but it swung loose in the bits of breeze that passed through the house.

I didn’t get it.

“Daddy, I’m hanging up.”

I was about to say okay and that she should get back to whatever or whomever she was doing when I heard a whimper.

“Hang on. I hear something. Or someone.”

“Who?”

“I’m looking.”

I followed the sound. I found its source in the bathroom. It was a child. “It’s a little boy.”

The kid looked up sharply. He had tear-stained eyes. “I’m a girl,” he said.

“I mean a little girl.”

“How old?” Sam asked.

“About... seven.”

“I’m ten.”

“I mean ten. She’s about ten. And her name is Jane.”

“Nicole,” the girl said.

“I mean Nicole. And she’s resting in the bathroom because she just broke all the furniture here and destroyed the place.”

“I’m hiding,” Nicole said. “I was scared.”

6.

Sam arrived about half an hour later. She wasn’t wearing her uniform.

“Thanks for coming,” I said. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“I hope you didn’t disturb anything.”

“I had to think of Nicole.” Nicole looked up from a chair she was using as a table in the kitchen area. “She was hungry.”

“Thirsty,” Nicole said.

“And thirsty. I made her a glass of water.”

“You don’t make water,” Nicole said.

“And I made her cinnamon toast.” I stuck my tongue out at the child. She laughed. I turned to Sam. “Like I used to make for you.”

“Is that your wife?”

“My daughter.”

“Is that really your daughter?” Nicole asked.

“My lovely daughter, of whom I am double-proud.”

“Why double?”

“Proud of her as an outstanding police person and proud of her as a wonderful human being who has come through a lot of difficulties in her life.”

Nicole frowned. “She’s police?”

“Sure as shootin’.”

Sam drew me aside. “What do you know about her?” I shook my head. “Or about what happened?” I shrugged.

“I waited for you before asking questions,” I said.

Sam looked at her watch.

“Do you have to be somewhere?”

“I called this in on my way. Some uniforms should be here soon.” She knelt beside Nicole’s ‘table.’ “I’m Sam,” she said.

“That’s a boy’s name.”

“My father wanted a boy. He didn’t realize that girls are better.”

That pleased the child, who acknowledged it by taking a giant mouthful of the toast, as if no mere boy could eat so much at one time. She choked a little but got it down.

Sam said, “I need you to tell me what happened here, Nicole.”

“Men came and wanted money. Wolfgang wouldn’t give it to them, so they looked everywhere for it. Then they took him away.”

“Wolfgang?” Sam asked.

“He owns the house,” I said.

“The men broke everything,” Nicole said. “It wasn’t me.”

“Who else was here?”

“Two of the mothers.” Nicole thought. “Tara and... I can’t remember her name.”

“They were staying here?” Sam asked.

“We all stay here.”

“Why is that?”

“Our husbands and boyfriends aren’t good ones. They hit us.” Her face wrinkled. “Not me. But Mom. Harvey does that.”

“Is Harvey your dad?”

“No.” Her frown suggested that the less she had to do with Harvey the happier she’d be.

“How many women are staying here?” Sam asked.

Nicole counted on her fingers. “Seven.”

“And children?”

“Only me and a couple of babies.”

“Where are they all now?” Sam asked.

“Tara and the other one ran away when the men came. Two others... Janine and Stephanie... They came back later but they left. I think it was because their kids were about to get out of school.” She thought. “That’s Harry after the prince of England cause he’s got red hair, and Chloe.”

“They go to school?” Sam said. “I thought you said only babies stayed here.”

“Harry’s six and Chloe is seven. They’re such babies.”

“And,” Sam said, “where is your mother, Nicole?”

After toughing it out for a moment, Nicole’s face puckered up. She began to cry. “I don’t know. She left this morning and said I should wait here.”

“And you haven’t seen her or heard from her?”

“I told her I should have my own phone.”

“Why aren’t you at school?”

“The one I go to is too far away. Mom said we’d get a new one soon.”

“She wasn’t here when the men came?”

“No.”

“Do you know where she went? To work, maybe?”

“She used to work at Denny’s but then Harvey found her. I don’t know if she found another job yet.” Another pucker. “But she always comes back at night. I wait here for her.” She looked up at Sam. “Do you think Harvey found her again?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said quietly, “but I’ll try to find out. So Harvey wasn’t one of the men who took Wolfgang away?”

“I don’t know. They had masks on.”

“What kind of masks?”

“All over their faces, with holes for the eyes.”

“Did you recognize any of the men?”

She shook her head.

I said, “Do you know Harvey’s last name?”

“Peterson, I think.”

“Does Harvey know you and your mother live here now?”

“I don’t think so. But we’ve only been here...” She thought. “Three nights. But even if Harvey comes, Wolfgang promised he won’t get in.”

“How does he make sure of that?”

“He locks the door and he’s the only one who answers it.” The face puckered again. “But when the men came, they just pushed him out of the way. Wolfgang shouted for everyone to run and he jumped on one of the men, on his back.”

“You must have been scared, Nicole,” I said.

She nodded.

“But you didn’t leave with the other women?”

“Mom said to wait here.”

There was noise at the front of the house. We turned to look and saw two cops coming in through the aforementioned — but absent — door.

Sam put her arm around Nicole and took control.

I took flight.

7.

I headed back to the hospital. The answers to most of my questions were knocking around somewhere in Wolfgang’s head. Wolfgang, the half-alien formerly known as LeBron James. Wolfgang, the half-alien born in Santa Claus, Indiana, under the name of Curtis Nelson.

I did know some things.

As I drove I thought about what Nicole had told us and I wondered what kind of place Wolfgang was running. The Wolfgang I’d known didn’t seem a first-choice candidate for defender against angry terrorists, or boyfriends. He wasn’t big — just an average kind of guy. And when I knew him, he didn’t even have secure locks on his doors.

However, at that time he’d lived alone. Now he lived with seven women and three children. Maybe other things had changed too.

Once inside the hospital I was waylaid in the crowded waiting room. The rain hadn’t stopped and people continued to flood into Emergency. But I said magic words. I asked for Nurse Matty by name. Moments later she appeared before me.

“You’re back,” she said.

“Your powers of observation continue to dazzle.”

“I thought this Wolfgang guy wasn’t a friend.”

“He’s not. However I’ve just been to his house, where the cops are sifting through the wreckage of all the furniture.”

She leaned forward with her eyes wide open. “Wreckage?”

“There was also a ten-year-old girl hiding there who doesn’t know where her mother is.”

“This is Wolfgang’s... girlfriend?”

“Unlikely, but he’s the only person I can think of who might have an idea what’s up with Mom. And if he’s anywhere close to conversation-enabled, I need to see him.”

Nurse Matty tilted her head. “So, does that make you a cop?”

“No. But my daughter is.”

She blinked a couple of times. “Does anything you say make sense?”

“I’ve been asked that before.”

“I’m going to take you to see him anyway.”

“Thank you.”

“But you’ve got to promise not to stab him. We’ve sewn him up enough for one day. We found a fourth cut — in his shoulder from the back. Did I tell you that before?”

“Not where it was.”

She turned and we walked. “He’s in a recovery room.”

“Not intensive care, then?”

“He should be fine. Only one of the abdominal wounds was deep. There were perforations in his liver and pancreas, but not big ones. The shoulder will give him trouble for a long time, but your Wolfgang is a very lucky boy.”

“I wonder if he sees it that way yet.” After a couple of turns, I said, “Were the four wounds all with different knives? Could they tell?”

“I don’t know.”

“They didn’t find he has two hearts, by any chance, did they?”

She stopped abruptly and looked at me. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t mind me.”

“That he loves you but he loves somebody else too?”

“I know nothing whatever about his love life, if any.”

“I don’t know if he’s going to make much sense yet,” she said, “so you should be a perfect pair.”

“This whole situation doesn’t make any sense,” I said.

“No?”

“Like, why did he come to me?”

Outside some drawn curtains, Matty said, “Remember, people take different lengths of time to come around after a general anesthetic.” She opened a gap in the curtains and I went in.

8.

Wolfgang was not looking his best. The side of his head was bandaged — though I hadn’t heard about a head injury — and there were enough drips and tubes and machines to make Baron Münchhausen envious.

But he responded to the noise of my arrival and he moved to sit up while I pulled a chair close. “Mr. Albert Samson,” he said. “Greetings.”

“Mr. Wolfgang... would that be Mozart?”

“It would.” Not too spaced-out to smile.

“How’s it going?”

“I’ve felt better. But we heal quickly.”

“You told me that before. Do you remember?”

He thought. He didn’t remember.

“Have you healed enough to answer some questions?”

“I’ll try.”

“Your house is a wreck.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Why are seven women and three children living with you?”

“Not living.”

“They have — had — beds. They come home to your place after they finish work. What do you call it?”

“Visiting.”

“Silly me.”

“It wasn’t my plan.”

“Women, some with children, just started appearing at your door?”

“It began with one. I was walking around and I found this woman leaning against a fence. She’d been beaten up.”

“You found her?”

“About two miles from my house — in fact a little closer to yours than mine.”

“So you dialed nine-one-one?”

“She didn’t want me to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Do you know anything about the psychology of battered women?”

“Do you?”

“I’ve been reading up on it. Anyhow, I brought her home. I got her a bed. The idea was that she could stay for a few days, until she felt better.”

“When was this?”

“Second week in October.”

“And is she still visiting you?”

“Well, yes.”

“And she happened to have some buddies who also got beaten up?”

“I guess. Or some kind of word started spreading around. Women, and children...”

“But there are shelters in the city, Wolfgang. Organized places with much better facilities than just having beds scattered around an open space, all sharing one bathroom.”

“And one kitchen... I know. Dayspring, the Julian Center... I have a list and I tell them. And some have gone to them. But a lot don’t want to.”

“They all stayed on?”

“A lot have gone back to where they came from.” He shook his head sadly.

I said, “Back in September you talked about doing something for ‘invisible’ people.”

“This wasn’t what I meant. I want to do something to help people with problems. But now all I do is squeeze more beds in and try to keep them all from squabbling. I hate raised voices.”

He paused. I just waited. Any group of people crowded in together isn’t going to last as happy families. The Big Brother television shows made fortunes on that principle.

Wolfgang said, “I don’t want my house to be a refuge for anyone but me. And I’m sure the neighbors don’t like it. But if people are in trouble, how can I say no to them?”

“Practice makes perfect,” I said.

“But the best part...” He smiled with some life in his eyes.

“What?”

“Sometimes they hold my father’s handprint and they say it makes them feel better.”

I knew all about the “handprint,” supposedly left by his extraterrestrial father. In the real world, it was a piece of limestone with some grooves in it that looked like the fossilized veins of a leaf.

“They feel ‘better’?”

“It calms them. They say it makes them more positive about life and the future. Sometimes we sit in a circle and pass it around.”

“The psychological equivalent of homeopathy?”

“They tell me they feel something. I feel something. Maybe if you’d hold it you’d feel something too.”

“I guarantee I’d feel whatever a guy giving me a safe place to sleep and food to eat wanted me to feel.”

He tilted his head with a world-weary smile.

I said, “I didn’t see the stone in the wreckage.”

“It wasn’t out. I keep it in a safe place.”

“So the police in your house won’t be in danger of feeling better by stumbling across it.”

“Police?”

“You were cut up. Your house is a wreck. What do you expect?”

“I guess.”

“Wolfgang, what happened? You were stabbed four times, maybe with as many as four different knives. Did everyone want a piece? Like when the Brutus gang hit Julius Caesar?”

“They weren’t trying to kill me. They were trying to get me to tell them where I keep my money.”

“What happened?”

“Four men came to the door wearing masks. I wouldn’t let them in, but they broke the door down and grabbed me and said they wanted money.”

“So it was money rather than being connected to the women you were sheltering?”

“Yes and no.” He smiled.

“Will I get a straight answer if I whack that bandaged shoulder with a saline-drip bag?”

He didn’t like the sound of that.

“When I asked you before, you said it was terrorists.”

He shook his head.

“It’s what you told me,” I said.

“They had terrorists’ masks.”

“I only heard ‘terrorists.’ So we’re talking about their masks, not them?”

He nodded.

“Because I didn’t hear the apostrophe, the city of Indianapolis is on a rainbow alert.”

“They just wanted money. For some reason they thought I keep enough money around the place to be worth robbing me.”

“Do you keep a lot of money around?”

“You never know when you’re going to need cash. Especially with a lot of mouths to feed.”

“And beds to buy.” He nodded. “How many women have stayed in your house since October?”

“Maybe twenty. Twenty-five.”

“Do you keep records?”

“Of what?”

“Well, like their full names and Social Security numbers.”

“I’m extraterrestrial, not anal.”

“And do you get a lot of men coming to the door?”

“A few. Husbands and boyfriends. A violent girlfriend once too. Not often.”

“So what happened when the four guys in terrorists’ masks demanded your money?”

“I wouldn’t give it to them.”

“Why not?”

He smiled. “Guess?”

I stood up and threatened his shoulder. But as he winced I put it together. “You keep your money in the same place as the handprint?”

“Yes.” A smile.

“So you got yourself cut to pieces because you were protecting that damned chunk of rock.”

“Whoever told them about the money might have told them how much the handprint means to me. I couldn’t bear to lose it.”

So he’d rather die. I guess I just don’t understand extraterrestrials... “They wanted money. You wouldn’t give it to them. What happened then?”

“They showed me the knives, but when I still wouldn’t do it the leader cut me — not deep, but enough to draw blood. There were a couple of women in the house and that set them off screaming and they ran. The men started cutting up mattresses and couches and everything they could see that might have money in it. But eventually the leader said they should take me with them, so they bundled me into a car.”

“Right there, in front of your house?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of car was it?”

“Quite large. Quite old. Light green or maybe light blue.”

Not a description to conjure up a car with, but the kind of neighborhood Wolfgang lived in would probably provide the police plenty of witnesses.

“Where did they take you?”

“They just drove around.”

“And continued to cut you in the car?”

“They didn’t know what else to do. But then...”

“What?”

“They gave up. My shoulder was bleeding so much the driver complained about the car upholstery and how they’d never be able to clean the DNA off it. He said he didn’t want to burn his car and they started arguing with each other.”

“Obviously, a gang of master criminals.”

“So they dumped me out, behind the Murphy building, and I recognized it.”

The old Murphy five-and-dime was across Virginia Avenue from my office. That was one question answered.

“So you came to me,” I said.

“I didn’t have a phone. They took the stuff in my pockets.”

“What was in them?”

“The usual things. Keys, wallet, phone.”

“Much money?”

“A couple of hundred.”

“The police are going to want to hear in detail what these guys said, anything you can remember about the car, and maybe names of the women staying with you.”

“You don’t want those things?”

“Are you hiring me?”

“Well, no. But I thought...”

“The cops probably won’t have much trouble tracking down your assailants. And when they find them they’ll have the advantage of the power of arrest.”

“I see.”

Which made me wonder something. “Wolfgang, could the guys who attacked you have been neighbors of yours?”

“Neighbors?” A deep frown.

“From families who don’t like the idea of your opening your house to waifs and strays.”

“Well...” He thought about it. “I don’t know who they were.”

“Did they say anything about your moving somewhere else, say?”

He shook his head. “It seemed to be all about the money. I’ve had some problems with my neighbors, but I can’t imagine...”

“Okay,” I said. Though there seemed to be quite a lot he couldn’t imagine, at one time or another. Why people didn’t just accept him as an extraterrestrial, for instance. “I do want something else.”

“What?”

“I found a little girl in your house. She was hiding and must have been there for hours.”

“Who?”

“Nicole? She’s ten.”

He nodded. “Elaine’s little girl.”

“Elaine hasn’t come back.”

“That’s surprising. She’s a very attentive mother.”

“Nicole was surprised too...”

9.

I had no reason to think that Elaine was in the kind of trouble that led her to court. But a woman desperate enough to run with her child from a boyfriend was not going to leave that kid unattended if she could help it.

The police would get onto it eventually, no doubt. But as long as they could drop the kid into the welfare system they’d focus first on the wreckage and the stabbings. That’s how police prioritize. Even those related to me by blood. Unless given a little guidance.

I had no specific reason to connect Elaine’s absence to the attack on Wolfgang, but I don’t believe in coincidence much more than I believe in extraterrestrials. One way or another there was a connection. And the only person I knew who could tell me more about Elaine was Nicole.

I called Sam.

“Where are you, Daddy?” she asked.

“Funny thing. I was about to ask you the same question.”

“A detective named Saul Imberlain wants to talk to you.”

“I already talked to him, at the hospital.”

“He wants to talk to you again, so I gave him your address and phone number.”

“I haven’t been home. But look, sweetie, I need to talk some more with the little girl, Nicole. Do you know where she is?”

“She’s still here.”

“Wolfgang’s house?”

“I’m waiting with her till someone from the Department of Child Services shows up. Which won’t be long.”

“So her mother hasn’t appeared?”

“No.”

“Just don’t let Nicole go anywhere before I get there, okay?”

“Why not?” I could hear her not saying she wasn’t on duty.

“Because I’m trying to find her mother and if I can do that it’ll save the poor kid some grief.”

After a moment Sam said, “Okay.”

What a good girl.

10.

Wolfgang’s house looked lit up like a roaring fire now that the light was fading. The cops seemed to have turned on every light in the place.

Which is not to say there weren’t a few lights aglow elsewhere along the street. Dim ones, with just enough illumination for neighbors to find their cigarettes and lemonade without making a mess as they watched the goings-on from behind their curtained windows. The neighbors were curious, but were they hostile?

A carpenter was at work on a temporary repair to the front door as I went in. Sam sat with Nicole in the kitchen area. A tall guy with a brown and gray beard stood behind them. Sam got up when she saw me. The tall guy pulled out a notebook.

Sam said, “This is Whitney Moser of DCS. Department of Child Services.”

Moser offered a hand.

I shook it. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.

Sam said, “Mr. Moser is going to take Nicole to where she can sleep tonight.”

“I need to ask her a few questions,” I said.

“And she needs to get settled for the night so she can get some sleep,” Moser said. “You can’t treat a child the way you might treat an adult.”

I crouched to be on a level with Nicole. Admittedly, she looked sleepy. It wasn’t all that late, but she’d had a shocking day. “Hi,” I said.

“Hi.”

“Which would you rather do, Nicole?” I asked. “Get some sleep or help me find your mother?”

“Daddy!” Sam said as Moser said, “Honestly, Mr. Samson.”

“Help find Mom,” Nicole said. She was plenty awake now.

“I need you to tell me some things that no one but you knows.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know the address where you and your mom lived with Harvey?”

“Who’s Harvey?” I heard Moser whisper to Sam.

Nicole said, “3117 Hincot Street.”

“Good girl. And does your mom have any friends around there?”

“Laurie across the street.”

“Right across the street?”

She nodded. “With the orange door. Mom wanted one but Harvey said no.”

“Shall I get you an orange door for Christmas?”

She nodded, vigorously considering how tired she was.

“What school did you go to before you and your mom moved here?”

“Ninety-three.”

“Did you like it there?”

Nod.

“I bet they liked you there too.”

A little shrug. Then a nod.

“What’s your mom’s name?”

“Elaine.”

“Elaine what?”

“Warren.”

“And are she and Harvey married or is he your mom’s boyfriend?”

“No.”

“No?”

“He was her boyfriend. We don’t put up with him anymore.”

“And does your mom have any brothers or sisters that you know about?”

“Bobby. But he died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He did magic. He found an egg in my ear.”

I took a close look at one of her ears. “Yeah, I’d say there was room for an egg in there.”

She smiled as she rubbed the ear in question.

I said, “And how about your mom’s parents. Do you know them?”

A nod.

“Where do they live?”

“Crawfordsville.”

“Are their names Mr. and Mrs. Warren?”

A nod, but then uncertainty. “I guess.”

“Do you know their first names?”

“She’s Lily. He’s... um. Oh, he’s Wayne.”

“And do you like them?”

A nod.

“My grandmother used to make pies, just for me,” I said. “Does Lily do that for you?”

Shake of the head.

“Well, I’ll tell her to get her act together,” I said.

“Yeah!” Nicole said. Then she yawned.

I said, “I’m going to let you go to sleep now.”

Nicole looked from me to Moser and back to me. “I want to stay here, in case Mom comes home.”

“I’ll see what we can arrange.” I gestured to Sam to take over distracting the little girl.

I led the social worker a few feet away. “Look,” I said, “I know you want to get this all settled.”

“I want what’s best for Nicole,” Moser said.

“If I can find her mother in a reasonable amount of time, that would be best, wouldn’t it?”

“As long as she’s able to provide a safe environment.”

“Can you hang on here for a while?”

“Do you know where Elaine Warren is?”

I was tempted to say yes just to get the guy to agree, but I saw Nicole paying attention to us. “Not for sure, but I have an idea. And I’ll give finding her a damn good try. Plus, you’ve seen that Nicole doesn’t want to leave. I’d appreciate it if you’ll give me some time.”

Moser looked at his watch.

I said, “Think about all the paperwork you’ll save if I’m successful.”

Moser turned out to be one of the good ones.

11.

Whitney Moser began to gather bits of bed and bedding to make Nicole a place to sleep and I took Sam to the front porch. “He’s going to stay here with Nicole while I have a crack at finding Elaine.”

“Where is she?” Sam said.

“I have no idea.”

“Great.”

“But I might know someone who does.”

“I want to help, if I can, Daddy.”

“Officially or as a caring human being?”

“Can you stop being you for a moment and just tell me what you have in mind?”

I had a moment in which I visualized Wolfgang the extraterrestrial in his hospital bed, bandaged and receiving drips. My feeling of isolation from the world I inhabit can be as self-created as his. “Sorry. I’m going to try to become a better person.”

“Perhaps you can postpone that too,” she said, looking at her watch.

“I want to start by looking at 3117 Hincot Street. If I can find it.”

“Want to follow me and my GPS?”

Hincot was a short, dead-end street behind an old shopping center a couple of miles south of the city’s center. It didn’t appear to be a bad neighborhood, but then again, it didn’t appear much at all. The GPS had brought us to a dark stretch between two streetlights that didn’t work. Or that had been shot out. I’ve never owned a gun in all my years as a P.I. but for a moment I was glad Sam-the-cop was packing.

However, the only trouble we encountered was not being able to see the house numbers without our flashlights, what with the darkness and the rain.

But we found 3117, which turned out to be the top half of a duplex. Both halves were dark.

“What do you think?” Sam asked.

“I’m going to walk around back in case Harvey’s sitting in his kitchen drinking himself silly by candlelight. You could make a note of the license-plate numbers of the cars parked nearby along the street.”

“You think one of them is Harvey’s?”

There were only a few cars on the street, none parked in front of the duplex, so the chances weren’t good that they were relevant. But who knew?

My squishy stroll around the property did not reveal Harvey lit up round back. Or any evidence of occupation at all. There were also no cars on the alley pull-in space behind the house. Maybe everyone was out partying.

But when I returned to the front, Sam’s was not the only umbrella over the sidewalk. She was talking with a woman.

Sam said, “Daddy, this is Laurie. She lives—”

“Across the street and has an orange door.” I stepped forward with a hand extended. “Nicole told us about you. Once we checked to see whether Harvey was at home we were going to come over and see you.”

Laurie’s hand was soft and warm, both pleasant qualities to experience when you’re standing under an umbrella on a cold, rainy night.

“Are you a cop too?” Laurie asked.

Sam said, “Laurie came over because she thought we looked like we were police.”

“I leave the weighty burden of badge-carrying to the youngsters,” I said.

“I thought maybe you were here because you’d arrested Harvey and wanted to check out his house, that kind of thing,” Laurie said.

“Laurie,” I said, “why do you think Harvey’s done something to be arrested for?”

“Can you see my face?” she asked, and turned her head.

Sam lit Laurie’s face with her flashlight, revealing puffy bruising around her left ear and cuts that looked like scratches on her neck.

“Are you saying Harvey did that?” I asked.

“He certainly did.”

“Why?”

“He thought I knew where Elaine was, that I was holding out on him.”

“When was this?”

“This morning.”

“And did you report the assault to the police?”

She hesitated, maybe working out that her answer could be checked. “No.”

“Why not?”

“He said it would be my word against his, and that if I told the police he and his friends would come back and really hurt me.”

Sam said, “And do you know where Elaine is?”

Laurie hesitated over this too.

I said, “Elaine’s with you, isn’t she?”

“What?” both women said.

“Elaine is in your house right now,” I said. “Isn’t she? That’s why you couldn’t do anything that might result in Harvey coming back and coming in.”

Elaine Warren met us just inside the orange door. “Has Harvey been arrested?” she asked Laurie. “They’re cops, right? He’s been arrested, right?” She looked from me to Sam and back to Laurie. None of us spoke. “What? What?”

“The girl’s a cop,” Laurie said. “And no, Harvey hasn’t been arrested.”

“Why not?” Elaine was clearly agitated.

Laurie put her arms around her friend and made a face at us to say we shouldn’t upset her more.

I wasn’t that worried about upsetting her, but I said, “That’s a lovely daughter you have, Elaine.”

“What?” She looked up and pulled away from Laurie’s support.

“Nicole. Bright, funny. A real credit to you.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. We’ve left her with a guy from Child Services.”

“Child Services?” New panic. “But Wolfgang said he’d look after her,” Elaine said.

“Wolfgang is in the hospital, Mrs. Warren,” Sam said. “He was attacked by four men and stabbed several times.”

“No,” Elaine said, with disbelief. “No!” she cried.

I said, “So the Child Services guy is waiting with Nicole at Wolfgang’s. They both hope you’ll come back tonight to pick her up.”

“How can I do that?” Elaine was more agitated than ever. “Where could we go? If Harvey sees me, I’m a dead woman.”

“You think he’s still looking for you?” Sam said.

“Unless you people lock him away.”

“Elaine,” I said, “when we came in, why did you ask if Harvey’d been arrested?”

“Because he’s dangerous, and evil. Look what he did to Laurie.”

“But the police didn’t know what he did to Laurie.”

Elaine looked from me to Sam to Laurie. “I just thought...”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know. I need to get Nicole. But I can’t. If he sees me...”

“You think he’ll be waiting for you outside Wolfgang’s?”

She thought. “He could be. He probably is. Oh God!”

“Well, suppose we bring Nicole here for the time being.”

Sam looked at me uncertainly.

“Would you?” Elaine said. She sounded more hopeful than at any previous time in the conversation. “Will you? Please!”

12.

As soon as Laurie’s orange door closed behind us, Sam said, “Whitney Moser’s not going to let us bring Nicole here. Not with a dangerous guy on the loose who’s already threatened to come back to Laurie’s.”

“No?”

“I wouldn’t.”

I said nothing.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“What are you up to?”

“Tell me, if you were Harvey and you were looking for Elaine, where would you wait for her?”

Sam considered. “Wolfgang’s maybe.”

“Once you’ve seen the cop cars there? Given that Elaine all but told us that he was one of the gang that stabbed Wolfgang.”

“She did?”

“She expected him to be arrested, honey. Even Wolfgang the extraterrestrial doesn’t claim to read minds and if he can’t, then the police sure can’t. Arrested for what, since Laurie didn’t report him?”

“If he was part of that,” Sam said, “then he wouldn’t hang around while the cop cars were there.”

“So what would be your second choice as a place to wait for Elaine?”

“Well,” Sam said, “here, I guess. If he thinks Laurie is helping her.”

“And tell me, did you get a chance to look at the cars parked along the street?”

“Yes. But I haven’t called them in.”

I said, “Were the windows of any of the cars fogged up with condensation?”

13.

Sam and I got in our cars and drove away.

Around the corner and then another block for luck. Sam called for a couple of squad cars to join her, stressing that they must do it quietly and must avoid Hincot Street.

The rain might have brought a lot of people out to the ER but it seemed to have kept most of Indy’s malfeasors at home. Patrolling cops were bored. The call for two cars brought five.

Under Sam’s guidance, a couple of them drove up the alley behind 3117 with their lights out. Once they were in place at the end of the street, Sam and the other patrol cars filled the street from its open end.

I walked back to the corner to watch. While I waited for Sam to give the go, a gust of wind blew my umbrella inside out. Then another gust righted it, but left me with a droopy corner — the umbrella would never be the same again. Was it a metaphor for life? We survive our trials but we’re never quite the same?

Suddenly the six cars leapt into action, lighting the street with head, spot, and blue-revolving lights. Moments later, Harvey’s car was surrounded with guns brandished by cops in raincoats. I saw his car’s door open a crack. The first thing out was his hands, held high and in plain sight. Once he was standing by the car, even from a distance he looked like he didn’t know what had hit him.

I wondered if Harvey figured that his windows being steamed up would make him inconspicuous because no one could see him in the car. Wrong. His being the only car on the street with opaque windows made it more conspicuous, not less. Poor Harvey. Not one of nature’s deep thinkers, at a guess.

Elaine didn’t think Harvey had a gun, but in Indiana you can never be sure. Hence the aggressive posture of the bored police officers. As it turned out, he was as unarmed as he was unaware. They didn’t even find his knife.

While the assembled representatives of law enforcement secured him ready for transfer downtown, I crossed and went back to Laurie’s orange door, my umbrella’s new flap flapping in the wind.

14.

Whitney Moser was sitting on a kitchen chair, concentrating on his phone. Either he was dealing with weighty matters of child protection or he was playing on one of his game apps. Nicole was asleep at his feet, curled up on a nest of mattress leftovers.

Elaine followed me into the house, but as soon as she saw Nicole she rushed to her and took her in her arms.

“Mom?” Nicole said as she rubbed her eyes and opened them.

It would have broken my heart if she’d woken up like that for anybody else.

Moser and I stepped away and I explained that the abusive boyfriend was now in custody, that Elaine and Nicole could go safely to the duplex where they’d been living or stay with a friend across the street.

“That’s just as well,” Moser said, “because I couldn’t allow them to stay on here.”

I thought he meant because of the lack of whole beds but that wasn’t it.

“The guy who owns this place,” Moser said, “what’s his name?”

“Wolfgang. I’m not sure what his full name is.” By now he might have changed it again, to that of someone else whose precociousness he suspected of identifying a fellow extraterrestrial.

“Well, I’ve checked the address and he doesn’t have any of the permits he needs to run a refuge, especially one with children.”

“I don’t think Wolfgang intended this place to become anything formal. He just took in people who asked him for help.”

“Well, he’ll have to learn to say no,” Moser said, “unless he goes through the authorization procedure. But even if he gets personal clearance, his chances of being approved for one big open-plan room...”

“He means well,” I said. “I can’t say more than that.”

Moser gave me a card. “Have him get in touch with me if he wants to talk about his options.”

I took the card.

But my lack of enthusiasm for bureaucracy’s facility for stifling generosity must have shown because Moser said, “I’m not one of the bad guys, Mr. Samson.”

“I worked that out before,” I said.

“It’s just the way things are.”

15.

I didn’t return to the hospital until the morning. The heavy rain had stopped at last. Impenetrably gray skies were dropping no more than a drizzle.

Sam met me there, curious to see the guy who was at the center of the action. And I was pleased to see that Nurse Matty was on duty again. Or was it still? “Don’t you ever get time off?” I asked her.

“I volunteered for a double,” she said, “which tells you something about my private life.”

“It tells me you’re a wonderful, caring person who’s probably stockpiling her money in order to open a charitable foundation.”

“Me and Bill Gates.” She eyed Sam up. “So, who’s your friend? Or is this a non-friend too?”

“She is, indeed, a friend. As well as being my daughter.”

“The cop?”

“Yes.”

“And she’s your daughter?” Matty tilted her head. “Her mother must be very very beautiful.”

I declined to respond. “How’s the patient?” I asked.

“He’s making me a little uncomfortable, to tell the truth.”

“Because of his endless demands for attention and enhanced comforts?”

“Cut up like he is, he should be restless and trying to get more pain relief out of us. But instead he just lies there.”

“And that’s a problem for you?”

“He watches everyone come and go, and then he smiles a little smile whenever someone takes his blood pressure or fluffs up his pillows.”

“And says thank you, I bet.”

“Every time. It’s creeping me out. I’ll be glad when we get a normal patient back in that bed.”

“Matty, have you had a personal chat with him?”

“Personal? Is that man code for something I don’t understand?”

“Asked him about himself, his family?”

“No.” She peered at me. “Why?”

“Well, don’t, if what you like is normal.”

“Okay, now you’re creeping me out too.” She shook her head. “You know where he is.”

“Yeah.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said to Sam and went about her business.

I led Sam to my non-friend.

Wolfgang was not asleep. He gave us a little smile when we came in. “Albert,” he said. “And a stranger.” He peered at Sam. “Are you two related? Daughter?”

“Thanks for acknowledging my genes,” I said. “This is Sam.”

“How do you do, Sam.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr.... Mozart?”

“Just call me Wolfgang.” He turned to me. “I thought you told me your daughter is a police officer.”

“She is.”

He stared at her. “Okay, I can see it now. But there’s something... more. You’re an unusual person, Ms. Samson.”

“Is that unusual-good or just unusual-different?” Sam asked.

“Good. Definitely good. You will do things in your life.”

“No need to butter her up. She’s not here to arrest you,” I said.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Sam said. “No promises.”

I said, “They’re complaining about you out there. They say you should be trying to get more morphine out of them.”

“It’s only pain,” Wolfgang said.

“There have been developments since I was here yesterday.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not, but there will be consequences for you.” I sat beside Sam to tell the story of the previous evening. As it went on, Wolfgang looked increasingly weary. Weary and unbelieving.

“Elaine is responsible for what happened?”

“I don’t know how the law will interpret it, but hers was the big bang from which the rest of yesterday’s universe followed.”

“But why? I took her in. I fed her. Her and her child.”

“It was about her, Wolfgang, not you.”

He absorbed this. “Okay. I can see that. I’m thinking narrowly.”

“She was desperate to get rid of her boyfriend. She never intended for anyone to get hurt. And, like yourself, she hasn’t had a good experience with the police.”

He glanced at Sam, who said, “So she went to her best friend. She got the friend to ask Harvey, the boyfriend, what it would take to get him to leave Elaine alone once and for all. Harvey said money.”

Wolfgang shook his head slowly, sad about the way human nature plays out. Maybe he was wishing his dad had taken him along to Planet Other.

“So Elaine and the friend hatched up a plan,” I said. “The friend told Harvey that you keep a lot of money around the house. Elaine thought he’d go to your place alone and that between you and the women there you’d subdue him and he’d be arrested.”

I paused while Wolfgang revisited what had happened in his house the previous day. “When I saw the four masked men,” he said, “I shouted for all the women to get out. Everyone ran out the back door.”

Except for Nicole. I said, “Maybe Harvey smelled some kind of rat when Elaine’s friend became cooperative. But for whatever reason he recruited some friends of his own for the visit to your house. Friends willing to rough you up for some easy money.”

“All wearing those terrorists’ masks.” Wolfgang shook his head, looking wearier and wearier.

Sam said, “We have Harvey in custody, Mr. Mozart. I hear that he gave up the rest of the ‘terrorists’ in about five seconds.”

“They’re sad, silly men,” Wolfgang said. “I’ve been thinking about how they acted when they had me in their car. They were childish and squabbly. And if they needed money so badly, they should just have asked. I’d have given them some.”

“That’s not how things are expected to work on Planet Earth,” I said. “And chances are it was greed rather than need anyway. For which they’ll all go down, for assault with deadly weapons.”

“I won’t press charges.”

“What?”

“I won’t testify against them. I should have talked more with Elaine. I should have learned more about her problems. I should have worked out some way to help her. I could have talked with this Harvey.”

“Had him hold your stone and let it make him see the light?”

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“I’d say you are otherworldly, but you’d just agree with me,” I said.

Sam said, “Your refusal to testify won’t keep them from being charged, Mr. Mozart. They’ll testify against each other. The medical records here will establish the injuries. They’ll plead out. And they will go to jail. They’re dangerous and they need to be prevented from hurting more innocent people.”

I said, “Why wouldn’t you help punish idiots who are willing to stab people to get a few bucks?”

“Because jail is not the answer. We have a higher percentage of our population in jail than any other country in the world and things like this still happen.”

“You could ask the judge to give them twenty-five years of community service.”

Wolfgang sat up in his bed. “I want to talk to them.” He looked at me but then settled on Sam. “Can you make that happen, Officer Samson? I need to talk to them. All of them.”

16.

Sam and I stood in the parking lot before we went our separate ways. “Weird guy, your friend Wolfgang,” she said.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Why does he want to talk to Harvey and the other idiots?”

“I think he believes he can spread peace on earth, one peace at a time.”

“Is he a megalomaniac?”

“He’s got this piece of limestone that he thinks has his extraterrestrial father’s handprint on it. Wolfgang believes that people who touch the stone feel better. Maybe even become better people.”

“If they do let him talk to Harvey,” Sam said, “they won’t let him take a lump of stone into the interview room. They’d be afraid your Wolfgang would just whack him on the head with it.”

“That’d make us feel better, in his place,” I said. “But then again you and I are not extraterrestrials.”

“I suppose I should be thankful that you’re human, no matter what Mom says.”

“She was never that beautiful,” I said. “It was her brains I went for. But then they ran out.”

“Why didn’t you tell Wolfgang that he can’t run his house as a refuge anymore?”

“Maybe he’ll pass his handprint around Children’s Services and they’ll sign him up and everyone will live happily ever after.”

“You think?”

“With him, I don’t know what to think,” I said. “Will Elaine face charges?”

“She and Laurie didn’t tell Harvey ‘Go stab,’ but they provided information knowing it was likely to result in a felony crime. Most judges won’t like that much, especially in an election year.”

“Maybe Wolfgang will want to fund a high-priced lawyer for her.”

“Has he got a lot of money?”

“I have no idea.”

“Will you go back in there now and tell him that Elaine might be in trouble?”

“Do you think I should?” I said.

“Maybe for Nicole,” Sam said.

“Yeah, all right. Good kid, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Like you,” I said. And she didn’t even smack me for calling her a kid.

Copyright © 2012 by Michael Z. Lewin