When The Bough Breaks

"In answer to your question, is it a good place, I can only say that we had no complaints when I was with D.P.S.S. They offer the basics, it looked clean, the area is certainly nice - most of those kids never saw a mountain except on TV. They bus the kids to the public schools when they have special needs. Otherwise they've got in - house teaching. I doubt if anyone helps them with their homework - it's certainly not "Father Knows Best" over there, but McCaffrey keeps the place up, pushes for lots of community involvement. That means public exposure. Why do you want to know so much about it, you think that kid's death was suspicious?" "No. There's no reason to suspect anything." I thought about her question. "I guess I'm just fishing."

"Well don't go fishing for minnows and come up with a shark, darling."

We nibbled at the strudel. Olivia called into the living room:

"Al, you want some strudel - with the figs?"

There was no answer I could hear, but she put some pastry on a plate nonetheless and brought it into him.

"She's a nice lady," said Robin.

"One in a million. And very tough."

"And smart. You should listen to her when she says to be careful. Alex, please leave the detecting to Milo."

"I'll take care of myself, don't worry." I took her hand but she pulled away. I was about to say something but Olivia returned to the kitchen.

"The dead man - the salesman, you said he volunteered at La Casa?"

"Yes. He had a certificate in his office."

"He was probably a member of the Gentleman's Brigade. It's something dreamed up by McCaffrey to get the business community involved with the place. He gets corporations to get their executives to volunteer weekend time with the kids. How much of it is voluntary on the part of the "Gentlemen' and how much is the result of pressure from the boss I don't know. McCaffrey gives them blazers and lapel pins and certificates signed by the mayor. They also get brownie points with their bosses. Hopefully the kids get something out of it too."

I thought of Bruno, the psychopath, working with homeless children.

"Is there any sort of screening?"

"The usual. Interviews, some paper - and - pencil tests. You know, dear boy, what that kind of thing is worth."

I nodded.

"Still, like I said, we never got any complaints. I'd have to give the place a B - minus, Alex. The major problem is that it's too big of an operation for the kids to get any personalized attention. A good foster home would definitely be preferable to having four to five hundred kids in one place at the same time - that's how many he's got. Aside from that, La Casa is as good as any."

"That's good to hear." But in some perverse way I was disappointed. It would have been nice to find out that the place was a hellhole. Anything to connect it with the three murders. Of course that meant misery for four hundred children. Was I becoming just another member of the child - hating society Olivia had described? Suddenly the strudel tasted like sugarcoated paper and the kitchen seemed oppressively hot.

"So, is there anything else you want to know?"

"No. Thanks."

"Now, darling." She turned to Robin. "Tell about yourself and how you met this impetuous fellow…"

We left an hour later. I put my arm around Robin. She let it lay there but was unresponsive. We walked to the car in silence as uncomfortable as a stranger's shoes.

Inside, I asked her:

"What's wrong?"

"Why did you bring me here tonight?"

"I just thought it would be nice…"

"Nice talking about murder and child abuse? Alex, that was no social call."

I had nothing to say so I started the car and pulled away from the curb.

"I'm worried sick about you," she said. "The things you were describing in there were hideous. What she said about sharks is true. You're like a little boy adrift on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Oblivious to what's going on around you."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Right." She looked out the window.

"What's wrong with my wanting to get involved in something other than hot tubs and jogging?"

"Nothing. But why can't it be something a little less hazardous than playing Sherlock Holmes? Something you know something about?"

"I'm a fast learner."

She ignored me. We cruised through darkened empty streets. A light drizzle speckled the windshield.

"I don't enjoy hearing about people getting their faces bashed in. Or children run down by hit - and - run drivers," she said.

"That's part of what's out there." I motioned toward the blackness of the night.

"Well, I don't want any part of it!"

"What you're saying is you'll go along for the ride as long as it's pretty."

"Oh, Alex! Stop being so damned melodramatic - that's right out of a soap opera."

"It's true, though, isn't it?"