The warden smiles his approval. His prize pig has shown well.

“Okay, we saw it. Let’s get out of here,” I whisper.

Piper doesn’t move. “The show’s not over,” she says.

“You said you wanted to see Capone. You saw him. Let’s go.”

“No,” Piper insists as Officer Trixle escorts Capone back into the kitchen and Willy One Arm appears at the head table, holding a wine bottle with a white bib tied around it. He fills each glass, finishing with a showy twist. All of which he does despite the fact that he’s missing one arm and his black jacket sleeve hangs down empty, flapping as he moves.

Willy catches Officer Trixle’s eye. Trixle nods. Willy One Arm’s good hand tosses something invisible over his shoulder as he follows Trixle into the kitchen.

“That’s salt,” Piper whispers. “He throws it over his shoulder after everything he does.”

“Why?”

“For luck. He forgot to do it the night he lost his arm.”

Trixle’s lips are twitching as if there’s a laugh he can’t quite contain. He goes to the front podium and calls the room to attention by clinking a wineglass. “Excuse me, but we seem to have found a wallet.” He opens the wallet with a flourish and takes the license out. “Says here: J. Edgar Hoover.”

Hoover isn’t paying attention. He’s absorbed in a whispered conversation with my father.

“Lose something, Mr. Hoover?” Warden Williams asks, leaning toward J. Edgar, not a trace of humor on his face.

“Pardon me?” Hoover says.

“I said, missing something?” the warden asks.

Hoover pats at his vest, his suit coat, his trousers pockets. His dark eyebrows slide together.

Willy One Arm returns with an empty tray. Officer Trixle sweeps a folded napkin through the air and places it carefully on the tray. Then he sets the wallet right in the center and Willy One Arm scurries over to J. Edgar Hoover, whose mouth is even more dour than it was before. Hoover snatches his wallet back, checks the contents, and slips it into his vest pocket in one swift motion like a rodent who has found his cheese.

“Guess you got your pocket picked on Alcatraz, sir,” Warden Williams says as he spreads a thick coat of butter on his bread, careful not to look Mr. Hoover in the face. “Like I said this afternoon, Mr. Hoover, we have the cleverest criminals in the whole country here on Alcatraz. I think it would be a bad idea to cut back our guard forces… a bad idea indeed.”

Same day-Sunday, September 8, 1935

I finally get Piper out of there, back down the stairs and into the bowling alley basement again. “Can you believe that?” she whispers.

“ Ness ate Capone’s spit. You know how he shines Trixle’s shoes? Bet that’s the trick.”

“A spit shine?” she asks with a whispery laugh.

“Willy was amazing. I didn’t even see his hand move. Did you?” I whisper as we let ourselves out into the dark night, lit by a full moon and the bright entrance light.

As the cold air hits me, I suddenly stare stupidly at Piper. How are we going to get back to 64 without the guard in the dock tower spotting us? Why didn’t I think this through? Piper can make these kinds of mistakes. I can’t.

“How are we going to get back?” I ask.

“We could shimmy down the wall and walk in the water,” Piper suggests.

“Mattaman will shoot us. He’ll think we’re escaping cons.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Piper says.

I roll my eyes. How can she be so blasé about this. It’s almost as if she wants to be caught. “We could throw a rock over in the wrong direction. Mattaman will point his guns on that spot and we’ll run,” I offer.

“Throwing stuff… that’s your solution to everything, isn’t it?” Piper whispers.

“Got a better idea?”

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

A sheet of sweat forms on my forehead. I can’t just stand here and wait until my father comes out. I have to get back to Natalie.

We stare at the guard tower. We can probably get behind my dad’s electrical shop without Mattaman seeing us, but once we get close to 64, there’s almost no way to get back without being spotted… or is there?

The first rock makes no sound. The second rock is big and soft-more of a dirt clod, it hits with a thud and splits apart, unloading a pile of dirt on the newly washed road.

We don’t have time to worry about this, we just run. My legs rip across the road and up behind my dad’s electrical shop. Now we’re safely out of sight of the tower, but then I see where we have to go.

To get to 64 now, we have to run within clear sight of Mattaman; there’s no way he won’t see us. I’d hoped we’d be able to scoot across in the shadows, but now I’m pretty certain we’re dead meat.

“We got to pretend we’re supposed to be here,” Piper says, still breathing hard from the run. “Let me handle it.” She darts across before I can stop her.

Within seconds, Mattaman’s high-powered searchlight finds her, and I scuttle out to where she’s standing.

“Piper? Moose?” he calls through the bullhorn. “What’s going on down there?”

“Just coming back from playing for Mr. Hoover, Mr. Mattaman,” Piper calls back.

“Thought you were done earlier,” Mattaman bellows.

“No, sir,” Piper answers.

“That right, Moose?” Mattaman calls down.

My heart beats loudly in my ears, flushing me with guilt. “Yes, sir,” I say weakly.

“Okay then.” Mattaman gives us the nod.

When we arrive at the Mattamans’, Piper cracks a big smile. “I’m so good,” she says.

Doesn’t she ever feel ashamed, I wonder as Mrs. Caconi pounces on us, her face red and shiny with sweat. “Do you have her?” she cries.

“Who? Have who?” I ask, but I already know the answer. I can feel it in the tightening of my belly and the dizziness in my head.

“I don’t know what happened, Moose.” Mrs. Caconi’s lip begins trembling. “One minute Natalie was here. The next minute she was gone. Jimmy and Theresa are out looking for her. But you’d know where she’d have got to. Course you would!” She mops her forehead with her handkerchief.

“I better go get my parents,” I say.

“Oh now, Moose… you don’t need to go and do that, do ya? Go on. You’ll find her. I know you will.” Mrs. Caconi’s big pink hand is on my back, pushing me out the door.

“She doesn’t want us to tell,” Piper blurts out as we run down the balcony. “She doesn’t want to get in trouble either.”

I try to figure out where Natalie would go.

“Let’s try the swings,” I say as we head up the stairs to the parade grounds, though I wonder again if I should get my parents. I don’t want to tell them I wasn’t with Natalie, but this is serious.

We round the corner of 64 building and slam into Jimmy and Theresa. They’re panting like they’ve just run a few miles.

“Natalie?” my voice croaks.

Jimmy is doubled over with a side ache. “We checked behind 64 building, Chinatown, the parade grounds. Nothing.”

“I was in the bathroom,” Theresa explains in a high voice. “Jimmy was supposed to be watching her.”

Jimmy puts his head in his hands. “Two minutes I was gone. I just went to get the ball. It went over the railing,” he mutters miserably.

“That’s all you ever do. Throw and catch. Throw and catch,” Theresa practically shouts at him.

“Shut up, Theresa. Let’s just find Natalie,” Piper tells her.

“Where would Natalie go?” I try to think, but my mind is jammed with fear.

“The secret passageway?” Piper whispers.

“She doesn’t know about it.” Then it comes to me, what I told her yesterday: tomorrow. We can see Molly tomorrow. “Your house,” I tell Piper.

Theresa’s head is like a little nodding machine. “She kept talking about that mouse, Molly.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Jimmy shouts at her.

Theresa takes a big wobbly breath. “Don’t yell at me. I didn’t think of it.”