“You still pickin’ through bomb damage?”

“I’m on the homicide now. You want to look at the scene, I’ll take you.”

Carl said, “Is there any reason to believe the third one might be a woman?”

Kevin took a moment to say, “I don’t know. I think they all assume it was a guy. But the wife, say she caught him with another woman.” There was a silence. “No, if the wife did it, the other woman’s body’d still be there. I’ll find out and let you know.”

“Or the third one,” Carl said, “was the other guy she caught her husband with? But where did he go?”

Kevin said, “You’re not thinking it could be Honey.”

“Vera said Walter drove her home. I don’t have any reason to believe Vera, but I do. I accept her lying about Jurgen.”

“Well, Walter’s at the farm. I spoke to him for a while. In the surveillance report for last night, Walter arrived with most likely Joe Aubrey, but it was hard to get a positive ID. They know Walter because of his car. Surveillance says he left with a man and a woman.”

“You call him before or after you knew about the homicides?”

“After I went to the scene. I called him from there, asked him who he drove home. He said Honig Schoen. He dropped her off at her apartment. I said, ‘Walter, there were three people got in your car when you left the meeting.’ Walter said, ‘You have a photograph of three unidentified people standing by a car at night somewhere?’ He said whoever saw us was mistaken or lied. His wife was his only passenger.”

“That’s what he called her?”

“Which, his wife or his passenger? I asked if she was at the farm with him. Walter said no. But she promised to spend time with him today.”

“She told him that?”

“Walter said he would see she kept her verd.”

“So we know what she’s doing now,” Carl said. “She’s hiding from Walter.”

Vera hadn’t moved from the sofa. Sitting with her again Carl thought of giving her knee a pat for no other reason than having the war in common, on different sides but they’d feel the same way about it. He said to her, “You think the war’s done anyone any good?”

“I’ll say no one, because I’m too tired to think of something that sounds wise, or enigmatic. Or stupid.”

“What do you want to do when it’s over?”

“Try not to be noticed.”

“You worried about people telling on you?”

“My friends?”

“Your spy ring.”

Carl looked up and there was Bo with a coffee service for one. He placed the tray on the cocktail table and poured a cup as Vera said to him, “This gentleman wants to know if I suspect you would tell lies about me to save your dupa from rapacious prison convicts.”

Bo said, “What’s wrong with a rapacious convict?” He served Carl, handing him a cup of black coffee. Carl said thanks and Bo said "Koorvya mat” in a pleasant tone of voice and walked away.

Vera was watching him. Carl said, “What’s koorvya mat mean?”

“You thanked him-you didn’t think he was saying oh, you’re very welcome?”

“He was too sweet.”

“I shouldn’t tell you,” Vera said, “but what difference does it make. Koorvya mat is Ukrainian for ‘Go fuck your mother.’ What did you say to him, before?”

“I might’ve raised my voice,” Carl said. “You don’t think he’ll turn on you, huh?”

“If they frighten him enough, I wouldn’t be surprised. But whatever he tells them will be highly entertaining. Bo loves attention.” She said, “What will the others do if accused? Nothing. Joe Aubrey will continue to be Joe Aubrey. Dr. Taylor the obstetrician will inspect vaginas as he thinks up racial slurs, and Walter... Honey must have told you his astonishing plan.”

It took Carl by surprise. He said, “Yeah, Walter,” and said, “you think he’ll pull it off?”

Vera started to smile. “You haven’t spoken to Honey, have you? You’re still upset she left you to come to my party. You know, you may not be smart enough for Honey. I saw the photo of your wife in Newsweek, in her uniform. She’s quite attractive. I suppose she’s pleasant. But if you haven’t noticed, Honey is a rare human being, a free spirit who knows how to think. She’s not simply in a rush to be entertained, try new things.”

“You’re saying I should leave my wife for Honey Deal?”

“I’m saying she’s one of a kind. If you’re afraid to spend time with her, then don’t.”

Carl said, “Let’s get back to Walter.”

“I won’t talk to you about Walter. I’m sure he told Honey. Ask her what he’s doing, as Walter says, to meet his destiny.”

“You don’t care that Honey knows?”

“It’s too big for Walter,” Vera said. “It’s his grand illusion, Walter Schoen becomes a prominent name in the history of the world.”

Carl said, “He wants to assassinate somebody.”

“I’m not saying another word.”

“I was thinking he might want to return to Germany for Adolf’s last stand, but there’s no way for him to get there. So it must be Walter’s gonna shoot somebody like the president of the United States. Get him riding in that open car he likes. A fella by the name of Giuseppe Zangara, an anarchist, fired five shots at Roosevelt one time from no more than twenty-five feet away. In Miami, 1933.”

Vera said, “He missed?”

“A housewife by the name of Lillian Cross bumped Zangara and threw him off his aim. He missed the president, but hit five other people standing there, one of them Anton Cermak, mayor of Chicago.”

“Did she think five people shot,” Vera said, “was worth not losing the president?”

“I’ve wondered that myself,” Carl said. “One of these days I’ll look Miz Cross up. In the meantime I’ll see if I can find Honey- if her free spirit hasn’t gotten her to run off.”

Carl had put his cup on the tray. He picked it up now, took a sip and put the cup on the tray again, the coffee served to him ice cold.

“You realize,” Carl said, “you could be indicted for knowing about Walter but not saying anything? It’s called misprision, concealing treasonable acts against the U.S. government. Even if you take no part in the act.”

“I told you,” Vera said, “it’s his dream. Do you think I should go to prison for something Walter has no intention of actually doing?”

“You’re still liable.”

“Do you care?” Vera said. “You haven’t asked if Jurgen is here.”

“Is he?”

Vera said, “No,” and smiled.

“How about Dr. Taylor?”

“What about him?”

“You think he might tell on you?”

“Dr. Taylor has no credibility. He continues to say Adolf Hitler is the savior of the world, and who believes that? No, the doctor is not a concern of mine.”

Carl said, “You mean now that he’s dead?”

Vera came in the kitchen to see Bo hunched over the morning paper spread open on the table.

“Did you hear what he said?”

“I wasn’t listening. He’s a peasant.”

“He knows about Dr. Taylor.”

“It’s not in the paper.”

“He doesn’t need the paper.”

Vera’s tone got Bo to look up at her.

“He knows policemen, federal agents. He asked if I was worried about the doctor informing on me. I said he’s not a concern, and he said, ‘You mean now that he’s dead?’”

Bo said, “He knows already?” sounding surprised.

“You call him a peasant,” Vera said, “with your prissy way. You serve him cold coffee. The man is the most famous law officer in America. They write stories about him in magazines. A book was written about him with photographs, you think he’s of no concern.”

“I thought his behavior crude.” Bo shrugged in his new smoking jacket. “What did you say to him?”

“I said, ‘The doctor, he was in an accident with his car, and was killed?’ I must’ve sounded stupid.”

“I’m sure you were convincing.”

Bo’s gaze dropped to the newspaper and Vera said, “Look at me, I’m talking to you,” and swept the paper from the table. “The police know another person was killed.”