same motto and hung it in her bedroom. She always whispered.

An upright grand piano with a closedkeyboard stood in one corner of the room. I tried to open it, but it waslocked. A photograph of two women and a child stood in the place of honor onthe piano top. One of the women was Miss Jenks, younger but just as stout andoverbearing. The other woman was still younger and much prettier. She heldherself with the naive sophistication of a small-town belle. The child betweenthem, with one hand in each of theirs, was Dolly aged about ten.

Miss Jenks had come through the slidingdoors with a coffee tray. "That's the three of us." As if two womenand a little girl made a complete family. "And that's my sister's piano. Sheplayed beautifully. I never could master the instrument myself."

She wiped her glasses. I didn't knowwhether they were clouded by emotion or by the steam from the coffee. Over itshe related some of Constance's girlhood triumphs. She had won a prize forpiano, another for voice. She did extremely well in high school, especially inFrench, and she was all set to go to college, as Alice had gone before her,when that smooth talking devil of a Tom McGee—

I left most of my coffee and went out intothe hallway. It smelled of the mold that invades old houses. I caught a glimpseof myself in the clouded mirror beside the deer-horn hat rack. I looked like aghost from the present haunting a bloody moment in the past. Even the womanbehind me had an insubstantial quality, as if her large body was a husk orshell from which the essential being had departed. I found myself associatingthe smell of mold with her.

A rubber-treaded staircase rose at therear of the hall. I was moving toward it as I said:

"Do you mind if I look at the room Dollyoccupied?"

She allowed my momentum to carry her along and up thestairs. "It's my room now."

"I won't disturb anything."

The blinds were drawn, and she turned onthe overhead light for me. It had a pink shade which suffused the room withpinkness. The floor was thickly carpeted with a soft loose pink material. Apink decorator spread covered the queen-sized bed. The elaborate three-mirroreddressing-table was trimmed with pink silk flounces, and so was the upholsteredchair in front of it.

A quilted pink long chair stood by thewindow with an open magazine across its foot. Miss Jenks picked up the magazineand rolled it in her hands so that its cover wasn't visible. But I knew a TrueRomance when I saw one.

I crossed the room, sinking to the anklesin the deep pink pile of her fantasy, and raised the blind over the frontwindow. I could see the wide flat second-story porch, and through its railingsthe pepper tree, and my car in the street. The three Mexican boys came by ontheir bicycle, one on the handlebars, one on the seat, one on the carrier,trailed by a red mongrel which had joined the act.

"They have no right to be riding likethat," Miss Jenks said at my shoulder. "I have a good mind to reportthem to the deputy. And that dog shouldn't be running around loose."

"He's doing no harm."

"Maybe not, but we had a case of hydrophobia twoyears ago."

"I'm more interested in ten years ago. How tallwas your niece at that time?"

"She was a good big girl for her age. About fourfeet and a half. Why?"

I adjusted my height by getting down on myknees. From this position I could see the lacy branches of the pepper tree, andthrough them most of my car, but nothing nearer. A man leaving the house wouldscarcely be visible until he passed the pepper tree, at least forty feet away.A gun in his hand could not be seen until he reached the street. It was a hastyand haphazard experiment, but its result underlined the question in my mind.

I got up off my knees. "Was it dark thatnight?"

She knew which night I meant. "Yes. It wasdark."

"I don't see any street lights."

"No. We have none. This is a poor town, Mr.Archer."

"Was there a moon?"

"No. I don't believe so. But my niecehas excellent eyesight. She can spot the markings on a bird—"

"At night?"

"There's always some light. Anyway,she'd know her own f ather." Miss Jenks corrected herself: "She knewher own father."

"Did she tell you this?"

"Yes. I was the first one she told."

"Did you question her about it in anydetail?"

"I didn't, no. She was quite broken up,naturally. I didn't want to subject her to the strain."

"But you didn't mind subjecting her to the strainof testifying to these things in court."

"It was necessary, necessary to the prosecution'scase. And it did her no harm."

"Dr. Godwin thinks it did her a lot of harm, thatthe strain she went through then is partly responsible for her breakdown."

"Dr. Godwin has his ideas and I havemine. If you want my opinion, he's a dangerous man, a troublemaker. He has norespect for authority, and I have no respect for a man like that."

"You used to respect him. You sent your niece tohim for treatment."

"I know more about him now than I did then."

"Do you mind telling me why she neededtreatment?"

"No. I don't mind." She was

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009