“When did you leave last night?”

“Not long after midnight, which was a lucky thing, I suppose. I was home and sober by the time the hospital called me this morning.”

“Warren was still here at midnight?”

“Yes. Tried to talk me into staying.” He glanced up at the house. The mansion’s lights were on, although the windows of some of the upper rooms were dark.

“Wait here,” O’Connor said. “I’ll bring him out to you.”

“No argument from me,” Norton said, recognizing the chief’s Cadillac two cars away. “But I want to be the one to break it to him, Conn. I have to be able to see his reaction. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

O’Connor borrowed Norton’s umbrella and walked uphill toward the house. When the wind threatened to turn the umbrella inside out, he closed it. He was soaked by the time he reached the front door.

Auburn’s butler welcomed him. Conscious of the muck on his shoes, at first O’Connor declined to come in, but seeing the man would stand there letting the heat out of the place until he crossed the threshold, he stepped just inside the door. He asked for Auburn. “I need to speak with him privately, please.”

The butler nodded.

Conn could hear men’s and women’s voices, soft music and laughter, coming from another room. The click and clatter of billiard balls on a pool table.

Within a few moments, Auburn appeared. He was in his late forties, neatly dressed in a sweater and slacks, and, O’Connor was relieved to see, wide awake and sober.

“Conn? Glad you could rejoin us!”

“I’m afraid I’m here on an errand you might not like, Auburn. Is Warren Ducane here?”

“Yes, in fact we’re playing billiards. Is anything wrong?”

“Forgive me, Auburn, but I think it would be best if I talked to Warren himself. Could you ask him to speak with me for a moment-without making anyone else curious about it?”

Auburn looked concerned, but said, “Certainly.”

As he began to walk away, O’Connor asked, “Has Warren been here all weekend?”

Auburn turned to him in surprise, but said, “Yes.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely. Conn, is he in trouble?”

“Not if he’s been here the whole time.”

“He has, since Friday afternoon. I sent my car to pick him up from his home, and he has remained the entire weekend. I give you my word. And if my word won’t do, I’m sure the chief’s will.”

“Yours will do better than the chief’s.”

Auburn laughed.

“Don’t let Warren know I asked, Auburn.”

His brows drew together.

“I’m not trying to make trouble,” O’Connor said. “Not for you, and not for Warren.”

After a moment he said, “All right, Conn, I won’t tell him you asked.”

He came back a few minutes later, Warren in tow. Warren looked wary, but curious.

“Conn? What is it?”

“Warren, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you to come with me for a moment. I’ve got someone with me who needs to talk to you.”

When he hesitated, Conn said, “It will be all right.”

Auburn had apparently asked his butler to bring Warren’s coat to him, because he came to the foyer carrying it, and assisted Warren in putting it on.

“I-should I get my other things?”

“If necessary, you can come back for them,” Auburn said. “Or I can have them brought to you.”

They were both rain-drenched by the time they got to O’Connor’s car. O’Connor looked back and saw Auburn watching them from the front porch.

Norton got out of the Nash and introduced himself, showing his badge.

“What’s this about, Detective?”

“Let’s get inside the car, all right? Can’t talk out here in the rain.” He held the back door open. Warren climbed in. Norton came around and got into the backseat, on the other side, behind Conn. Conn started up the motor and turned on the heater.

“Is your car near here, Mr. Ducane?” Norton asked.

Ducane shook his head. “No. It’s in the shop. Auburn sent a car for me on Friday.”

“You’ve been here since then?”

“Yes. What’s this about?”

“If you don’t mind,” Norton said, “I’d rather we spoke at your home. Would that be all right?”

“Sure, but… am I in some kind of trouble?”

“No, Mr. Ducane. Not as far as I know.”

O’Connor got directions from Warren to his place. He glanced at Warren in the rearview mirror. Ducane looked boyish and scared. His straight, dark hair was sticking up in tufts-a result of his running his hands through it. His blue eyes had dark smudges beneath them-perhaps the result of two nights of partying at Auburn’s Stand-and his handsome face was drained of color.

Conn wished Norton would just tell him what was going on. It seemed cruel to make him wait. But this was Norton’s case, and he wasn’t going to interfere.

They didn’t travel far to reach Warren’s home-at least not in miles. In situation, the residences were entirely different. Warren Ducane lived in the back house of a “two on one” lot-his was a small house built at the back of a large lot, behind a bigger home, accessed from an alley rather than the street. One of many such places slapped together during the wartime housing shortage.

A uniformed officer stepped out of a patrol car parked in the alley.

“It’s all right, Officer Arden,” Norton said. In a low voice, he asked Warren if the young man could step inside with them. “I imagine Matt might appreciate a chance to use the bathroom. He’s been waiting for you to come back home, and it has been a long shift for the poor guy.”

O’Connor knew this wasn’t exactly true, but did nothing to give Norton’s game away.

Warren was agreeable. They crowded into the small living room of the house, and could see from there that they were in one of four rooms: the house had a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a living room. Doors were open to all of them. The bedroom had men’s clothing strewn about, and the bed was unmade. Warren quickly pulled the door to it shut. The other rooms were relatively tidy. Warren allowed Arden use of the bathroom, then went to a narrow linen cupboard and brought out three clean, dry towels.

Arden started to go back out, but apparently reading some signal from Norton, stayed inside, near the door.

Warren turned on a small gas heater, then invited O’Connor and Norton into the kitchen, saying it was the largest room in the house. He started the coffee percolator as O’Connor and Norton took seats at the kitchen table. O’Connor heard the cups rattle in their saucers as Warren set them on the counter.

Warren watched the coffeepot for a moment, then sat down with a kind of resignation, as if unable to come up with another way to delay hearing what was about to be said.

“The coffee will take a few minutes. What’s this all about?”

“I’m afraid it’s about your family, Mr. Ducane.”

“My family? My parents? Has something happened to my parents?”

“Your brother and his wife joined your parents on their boat late Saturday night. They haven’t returned.”

Ducane face went from chalk white to a gray color. “Not… not all of them? Not all of them together?”

“Yes… Are you all right? Maybe you should put your head down between your knees for a moment.”

Warren obeyed, and a little of his color returned to him. But when he sat up again, he still seemed dazed.

The coffee began to percolate, the coffeepot making intermittent burbling sounds.

Ducane sat staring and then asked, “Todd and Kathleen, too?”

It was always like this, O’Connor thought. People in shock thought if they asked the question in a different way, the answer would be different. As if enough questions would bring about an answer they liked, or one that made sense to them.

“Yes,” Norton said, perfectly patient. “Your parents and Todd and Kathleen.”

Warren trembled. “No… there must be some mistake. Yesterday was Kathleen’s birthday. There was a party. My parents were going to take their new boat out after the party. On their own. Not with Todd and Kathleen. Todd and Kathleen must be somewhere else.”