He hesitated, then said, “The baby’s missing. Little Maxwell Ducane. Kidnapped, looks like. But we don’t know where the Ducanes are-any of them.”

“What?”

“They went out on the Ducanes’ new boat, but haven’t come back-they were only supposed to be gone for a couple of hours, but there was fog late last night and this storm came in right behind it, so who knows what they ended up doing? Could be over on Catalina Island, waiting it out. Tried to get them by radio, but no luck. The Coast Guard will look for them, but in this weather-anyway, that’s it in a nutshell. Now sit tight, and I’ll tell you more when I can.”

So O’Connor waited, listening to the rain. He had felt so relieved to learn that it wasn’t Katy who was murdered, but hearing the rest of Norton’s news so soon after that had brought an end to that relief. Mixed with his anxiety for the child was his frustration at only having bits and pieces of information.

The coroner’s van left. Who was she, he wondered, that poor soul who’d been killed just because she worked here?

He caught a glimpse of movement in his rearview mirror, someone coming up the sidewalk. He waited, watching, but no one passed the car. He looked back, but the rear window was fogging up, and between that and the rain, he wondered if he had seen anything more than shadows.

O’Connor stepped out of the car. He tried to see if someone had moved behind the bushes that bordered the walk, tried to peer through the rain, but the wind drove it hard against him. He hurriedly got back inside.

He divided his attention between watching the street and glancing in the rearview mirror, but other than shifting shadows from the windblown branches of the trees, he saw nothing.

Suddenly there was a change in the pattern of the patrolmen’s movements. One of the wooden barricades was moved aside as Lillian Vanderveer Linworth’s chauffeured Rolls pulled up to it.

The Silver Cloud moved slowly past O’Connor’s car, then stopped and backed up, pulling alongside the Nash. He wondered if the police had asked her to come to the house, or if she had decided to see the crime scene for herself. Knowing Lillian, probably the latter-Lillian was never one to be passive. O’Connor didn’t blame her for coming here. He had spent a lot of time standing on the corner where Maureen had last been seen.

The chauffeur stepped out of the car, holding a large umbrella. The wind didn’t make it of much use to him. He was a young man, younger than O’Connor. He made his way miserably over to the driver’s side window of the Nash and waited politely. O’Connor took pity on him and rolled down the window, figuring no one enjoyed standing out in a cold rain.

“Mr. O’Connor? Mrs. Linworth would like a word with you, sir.”

“I’m waiting for someone. May I come by the house later on instead?”

The chauffeur hurried back to ask. O’Connor saw one of the windows of the Rolls open a fraction of an inch. He heard Lillian’s voice, but couldn’t make out what she was saying.

The chauffeur hurried back.

“Yes, sir, she would appreciate that very much. She said not to regard the hour, sir-to come at any time, day or night. I’m to impress upon you-”

“You have,” O’Connor said. “Please tell her that I’ll try not to make her wait up too late. And that…well, tell her I’m sorry to hear of her troubles.” He saw that the chauffeur was getting soaked, umbrella or no. “Why don’t you go back to the car and try to dry off a bit, now?”

He saw a look of determination on the man’s face and wondered at it, until he heard him say, “Mrs. Linworth asks if you have need of an umbrella.”

“Is she offering yours to me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ah, Lily…” He shook his head. “You may tell her, with my compliments, thanks all the same, but I only use umbrellas when it’s raining.”

“But, sir, it is raining.”

O’Connor smiled. “I’m Irish-I don’t even see it falling. Go on. Tell her thanks, but I’ve got my own with me.”

“Thank you, sir.” He hesitated, then added, “If I may say so, sir-she meant well.”

“Not a doubt of it.”

A few minutes later he saw Norton motioning to him. He reached for the slightly soggy copy of the Express again and held it over his hat as he hurried toward the barricade.

Norton again shared his umbrella. “Mind your manners in there,” he said. “Not everyone loves the fourth estate as much as I do.”

They walked quickly toward the sheltered entryway of the house.

“I saw the T-Bird,” O’Connor said. “You don’t usually drive it out to a job.”

“The department sedan’s in the shop. Should have it back tomorrow. Listen…about Jack, I’m damned sorry, O’Connor. Might as well tell you, they haven’t been able to learn a thing about it. Jack have anything to say?”

“Not really. He seems-a little mixed up.”

“Strange how that works. Some son of a bitch tries to crack your head open, you feel confused for a time. Don’t let it worry you, Conn. Memories may come back to him after he’s had a little time to recover.” Dan closed the umbrella, shook it, and leaned it up against a wall. He turned to an officer who stood at the door and said, “Anyone tries to take that, shoot him.”

The officer smiled. “Sure thing, Detective Norton-if you’ll do the paperwork on it.”

Dan turned to O’Connor. “These days, they give ’em a wise-ass test before they let them on the force.”

O’Connor followed Dan inside. Two other detectives stood in the marble entryway. They nodded at Norton, then frowned at O’Connor, but said nothing as he passed them. O’Connor glanced around but could see no signs of violence.

“You’ve been here before?” Dan asked, looking back at him.

“Yes,” O’Connor said. “I’ve only been inside once. A party, not long after Katy and Todd were married-a little more than a year ago.”

“Katy. I like that better than Kathleen. She owned the house before she married Todd?”

“Far as I know, her mother-Lillian Linworth-still owns it.” O’Connor looked around as he spoke. “Katy has lived here for about three years, so yes, she was living here before she married Todd.”

“Would have thought they could have afforded a place of their own.”

“Together they’re in line to inherit something like three fortunes,” O’Connor said, “but I don’t know that they have any money they could truly call their own-either one of them. Jack has always said that no good could come of that.”

“Parents foot all the bills?”

“The Linworths pay most of them.”

Dan said, “Why the Linworths and not the Ducanes-the older Ducanes, I mean-Todd’s parents?”

“Rumor has it the Ducanes haven’t given a penny to either of their children.”

“Well, why should they, right? Last I looked, nobody gave you or me a nickel we didn’t earn.”

Someone gave me a silver dollar once, O’Connor thought.

He recalled comments he had heard others make here and there about the coldness of the Ducanes toward their sons. More than just a matter of withholding money. Even the other swells thought the Ducanes were lousy parents. “You talked to Warren Ducane-Todd’s brother?”

“Hasn’t returned home yet this evening.” He gave O’Connor a speculative look. “But you might know where to find him?”

“Sure, I’ve a few ideas. I’d like to know what happened to the child first, though.”

“Wouldn’t we all. But okay, fair is fair. Come upstairs with me,” Norton said. “Most of the place appears to be untouched. A back door leading to the kitchen was damaged, that’s all. Point of entry, it seems. Fingerprint men are working on all of that area, just in case these assholes got careless. I wouldn’t lay any bets on that, though.”

“More than one murderer, then?”

“Maybe not. Come and have a look. Don’t touch the handrail.”

O’Connor followed him up the long, curving marble staircase to the right. As they climbed the stairs, Dan said, “Let’s start in the nursery.”