Nick thought over everything that had happened the night before, remembering the words, the desperate hug, sifting for clues, but none of it seemed to have anything to do with the woman at the Mayflower. Nothing to connect his father with her. Unless she had been the call at Union Station. Nick looked up from the paper. No one, not even his mother, could know about that. Then his father would be safe. No connections at all. It was only his being away that could make things worse now, make people wonder why he was hiding. He had to come back.

Nick grabbed the newspaper and ran upstairs to dress.

Through the bathroom door he could hear running water and knew his mother was soaking in the tub, hiding in a cloud of steam. They were all hiding. But they couldn’t, now. He threw on some clothes and went down to his father’s study, closing the door behind him. When he picked up the phone he heard Nora’s voice, polite and normal. “No, he’s out. Would you like to leave a message or try back later?” He waited for the click, then pressed the receiver button again to get the operator to place a call to the cabin. There were a few more clicks, then the burring of the line ringing a hundred miles away. It was a new line, finally put in last year, and it rang loudly enough to be heard outside. Nick imagined his father shoveling a path in the snow, picking up his head at the sound, then stamping his boots on the porch as he came in to answer. It’s all right, Nick would tell him. But the rings just continued until finally the operator came back and asked if he wanted her to keep trying. He hung up and turned on the radio. Perhaps his father hadn’t got there yet or the snow had blocked the road.

The radio was full of the suicide. Welles was asked if the loss of his witness would call a halt to the hearings. No. Not even this sad tragedy would stop the American people from getting at the truth. Mr Benjamin was saddened but not surprised. The poor woman’s instability had been obvious from the beginning. It had been irresponsible of Welles to use her as a political tool, and now with such tragic consequences. The bellhop who’d delivered the liquor wouldn’t say that she seemed particularly depressed. Pleasant, in fact, a real lady. She’d given him a dollar tip. But you never knew, did you? Meanwhile, Walter Kotlar was still unavailable for comment. Nick listened to it all and he realized that nobody knew. It would still be all right if he could reach his father in time. He tried the number again.

It was Nora’s idea to take a tray up to his mother, as if she were an invalid.

“She got no sleep, I could tell just by the look of her. And where’ve you been all morning?”

“Reading.”

“So it was a ghost, was it, with the radio on?”

“I can do both.”

“Your father’s picked a fine time. Not that I blame him. That phone would drive anyone out of the house.”

But her eyes were shiny with excitement and Nick could tell she was enjoying it all, playing nurse and secretary, busy and important. So his mother hadn’t told her.

After lunch he sneaked back into the study and tried the cabin again. He was listening to the rings, willing his father to come to the phone, when his mother walked in, surprising him.

“Nick,” she said vaguely. “I thought I heard someone. What are you doing?” She was dressed, her skin pink from the bath, but her eyes were dull and tired. She moved across the room slowly, still underwater.

“I’m calling the cabin.”

She looked at him, her face softening. “He’s not there, honey.”

Nick hung up the phone and waited, but his mother didn’t say anything. It scared him to see her withdrawn, drifting somewhere else. They needed to be awake now.

“Where is he?” he said, as if the question itself, finally asked, would break the spell.

“He went away,” she said. “You know that.”

“But where?”

“Not to the cabin,” she said to herself, her voice unexpectedly wry.

“Where?”

“Did he say anything to you? When you saw him?”

Nick shook his head.

“No, he wouldn’t. He’d leave that for me to explain.” She took a cigarette out of the box on the desk and lit it. Nick waited. “Im not sure I can, Nick,” she said. “Not yet. I’m not sure I understand it myself.” Then she looked up. “But it’s nothing to do with you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know. He wanted to stop the hearing, that’s all. But now—”

“Is that what he told you?”

Nick shook his head. “I just know.” He stared at her, waiting again.

She leaned her hand on the desk, unable to take the weight of his eyes. “Not now, Nick, okay? I need some time.”

“So you can think what to say?”

She looked at him, a half-smile. “That’s right. So I can think what to say.”

There was a knock, then Nora flung the door open, her eyes wide with drama. “There you are. We’ve got the police now.” His mother met her eyes, then glanced to the phone, expecting it to jump. “No. Here,” Nora said, cocking her head toward the stairs.

Nick saw his mother’s face cloud over, then retreat again. She closed her eyes for a second, waiting for this to go away too, then opened them and looked at her wristwatch, as if she were late for an appointment. “Oh,” she said and left the room in a daze. He and Nora glanced at each other, a question mark, then, unable to answer it, they followed her down the stairs.

Nick had expected uniforms, but the two policemen were in suits, holding their hats in their hands.

“We understand your husband’s not here,” one of them was saying.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Can I help?”

“Could you tell me when you’re expecting him?”

“I’m not sure, really. He didn’t say.”

“Any idea where we might be able to reach him?”

“Have you tried his office?” his mother said lightly, not meeting Nick’s look.

“We did that, Mrs Kotlar.”

“Oh. Well, that’s odd. Is something wrong?”

“No. We just wanted to talk to him. You’ve heard about Miss Cochrane?”

His mother nodded, then raised her chin. “My husband didn’t know Miss Cochrane,” she said plainly.

The policemen looked at each other, embarrassed. “Well, we have to talk to everybody. You know. In cases like this. Get some idea what may have been on her mind.”

“That’s one thing we’ve never known.”

In the awkward pause that followed, Nick looked at his mother, surprised at her tone.

“Yes, well, we don’t want to bother you. Just have your husband give us a call when he gets in, would you?” The policeman handed her a card.

His mother took it. “Do you want to talk to his lawyer, Mr Benjamin?”

“No, just have your husband give us a call.”

She jumped when the phone rang, involuntarily glancing at her watch again. “That’s all right, Nora,” she said quickly. “I’ll get it. Excuse me,” she said to the policemen, picking up the phone on the second ring. “Hello. Yes?” Nick couldn’t see her face, but her body leaned into the phone as if she were trying to make physical contact, and Nick knew it was his father. A prearranged contact. Now he understood her distraction. A chance to talk, ruined now by the need to pretend, her voice unnaturally brisk. “Yes, that’s right. Yes.”

She was listening. “No, I’m afraid I can’t.” Would his father know the police were there? Nick wanted to push them out of the room, grab the phone, and tell his father to come back. “I’m sorry, but he’s not here just now. He’s out.” Her voice was odd again, so far from intimacy that Nick knew it must be a message, her own kind of warning. “Yes. Yes, I know.” Now a faint crack, or did only Nick hear it? “He’s fine,” she said, almost softly, and Nick’s heart skipped. His father was asking about him. A pause as the caller talked. “You’ll have to try later,” she said, formal again, her voice rising slightly at the end. “Oh. I see.” Then, finally, her real voice. “Me too.”

She kept her back to them for a minute when she hung up, composing herself, Nick thought, and when she turned he saw that it was only partly successful. She looked the way she had after the bath, slightly drugged and confused. She tried a small smile.