"Now tell me who you are," Maurice said.

"I'm Alexander."

Maurice said, "Boy, I don't care what your name is. I want to know who you are to the man, what you're doing here."

"I'm house-sitting."

"You by yourself?"

He seemed to hesitate before saying, "Yeah, just me."

Foley caught it and glanced at Buddy.

Maurice said, "What are you to the man, Mr. Ripley?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"How'd he come to hire you, watch his place?"

"Oh, he's a friend of the family. Him and my dad are old buddies."

"Your daddy a crook too?"

"No-I don't know what you mean."

"Where's Ripley's safe at, he keep his valuables in?"

"His safe? I don't have any idea."

"Let's go upstairs," Maurice said, and nodded to the house sitter to lead the way.

Alexander said, "You know what? I think the safe's downstairs, in the library."

Maurice pushed him toward the wide staircase that took one turn on the way up to an open section of the hall with a railing.

"You just said you had no idea where it was."

"I mean I think that's where it would be."

"Yeah, and I think you don't want us to go upstairs. Go on, take us to the man's bedroom." On the stairway Maurice said, "Alexander?" and the young guy paused and looked over his shoulder.

"You set off any kind of alarms, or how you turn on all the lights outside? You're a dead house-sitter. Understand?"

He said, "Yes sir."

"They any guns in this house?"

"Not that I know of."

In the wide second-floor hallway-lined with paintings of horses and fox hunts on dark oak paneling, upholstered chairs and lamps on bombe chests-Maurice said to Foley, "All right now, you and Mr. Buddy go on check the other rooms. Look at the wall behind any pictures hanging on it. Look at the wall in the closets, behind the clothes."

Foley said, "You check the walls, huh?"

"The man has a safe," Maurice said, "it's gonna be up here somewhere."

"How about his place in Florida?" Foley said.

"If you'd called we could've checked his walls down there before we left.

This is if you'd checked to see where he was. You follow me?"

Maurice took his time now. He said, "Jack, don't fuck with me.

Understand? I don't have time right now to be fucked with." He turned to Alexander.

"Where's the man's bedroom at?"

"This one," Alexander said.

"Yeah, it could be in here," sounding eager. But just as Maurice gave him a shove toward the door, Foley saw Alexander look right at him, scared, worried-wanting to say something? Foley waited while Maurice and his guys filed into the bedroom. A light went on in there and he heard Kenneth's voice, Kenneth saying, "Hey, shit.

Man, look at this."

As soon as they were alone Foley rolled his mask up on his head.

"You ever wear one of these?"

"I don't ski," Buddy said.

"What do you bet," Foley said, "somebody else's up here?"

They opened the door to the next room, felt for a light switch and turned it on. A white satin spread covered the king-size bed.

Foley started for the next room and Buddy said, "You don't want to check the walls?"

"You bet I do," Foley said.

"Nothing I like better than checking walls. We'll come back. First I want to see where Alexander sleeps."

"He could be using Ripley's bedroom."

"I don't know, he could," Foley said.

"He seems like a nice kid, huh? Trying like hell to act natural."

The beds were made in the next two rooms.

"Guy lives alone," Buddy said, "what's he need a house like this for?"

In the first bedroom they came to on the other side of the hall, the bed was turned down.

"But hasn't been slept in," Foley said.

They came to the next room, the door open, the light off.

Foley turned it on and saw stuffed animals on the dresser and a vanity, all lands of little animals, birds, reptiles, and a bed that had been slept in, covers hanging down on one side, rumpled pillows, a pillow on the floor, a pair of sneakers… two pairs of sneakers, jeans and a sweatshirt draped over the arm of a chair.

Foley picked it up, a dark blue one with UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN lettered on it in yellow. He went to the bed, leaned in close to the pillows and caught a soft powdery scent. He heard Buddy, close by, say, "You might've been a good cop." Foley moved to the bathroom door, a full-length mirror covering it, and tried to turn the knob. The door was locked from the inside. Close to it, his cheek against the glass, Foley said, "Honey, open the door.

It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. I give you my word."

Silence.

He straightened and saw himself in the mirror wearing the overcoat, the white shirt and tie and the knit cap. He looked stupid. He took the cap off and shoved it in his overcoat pocket.

"Miss? Did you hear me?"

A woman's voice inside, close to the door, said, "Where's Alexander?" sounding fairly calm.

"He's okay."

"Tell him to say something."

"He isn't right here, but he's okay."

"What do you want?"

"Open the door, I'll tell you."

He waited.

"Miss, I can kick the door in. I don't mean to scare you, but you know I can do it." He waited again, looking at Buddy and saw Buddy straighten as they heard the lock click. Foley turned the knob, gave the door a push and let it swing into the bathroom.

The woman stood by the shower stall away from the door not the cute little college girl Foley expected-no, this woman could be forty years old with thick red hair hanging free: a big woman with full breasts that were plain to see in her flimsy bra and low-cut panties, her navel centered in a little pot belly. She looked ready to take a swing at Foley if he approached her.

He said, "You're Alexander's girlfriend?" doubt in his voice, and she confirmed it.

"I work here. I'm the maid."

Buddy moved in closer.

"Is this your room?"

She said, "Does it look like Mr. Ripley's?"

Buddy glanced at Foley.

Foley said, "How long've you worked for him?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

"Tell us where the safe's at," Buddy said, "and we'll leave you alone."

Foley said, "You and Alexander can get back to what you were doing.

What's your name, honI'm not your hon," the woman said.

Foley couldn't imagine her being tender, though she might be all a young guy like Alexander could ask for. He said, "I think you ought to stay in there. Get in the shower and don't make a sound."

She had her hands on her hips now, like no one was going to tell her what to do, saying, "Who do you people think you are?"

Scowling at them.

"You see the others," Foley said, "you'll know we're the good guys. I mean it, hide in the shower, for your own good."

She was asking, "What'd you do with Alexander? Where is he?"

When they heard Kenneth.

"Who's that?"

Before they knew he was in the room: Kenneth coming over to the bathroom with his shotgun, eyes bright in the ski mask, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the redhead in her underwear.

"Hey, shit," Kenneth said, "we gonna have a party."