He was surprised to find her in the kitchen, ingredients spread out on the butcher-block island. “Oh, good,” she said when she saw Harry. “I’m starting to prepare dinner. You’ll be eating here, I hope?”

“Sure,” Harry said, then added, “Did you talk to a detective today?”

“I did. Did you?”

“They think it might not be an accident.”

“Well, that’s what they say. I don’t know what to think except that either way, he’s still gone, Harry.”

“I know. But if someone had something to do with it—”

“Maybe someone was just trying to mug him, and your father fought back. Maybe it was still an accident.”

“If someone was trying to mug him then it wasn’t an accident.”

“No, I know,” Alice said, beginning to slice an onion. “The police will figure it out.”

“Where did they talk with you?” Harry asked.

“Who? The police? They found me at Chrissie’s house. I think you must have told them I was there. Chrissie wasn’t surprised, either. We both thought that someone else might have been responsible.”

“But who?” Harry asked, trying to keep his rising irritation at Alice’s lackadaisical attitude from showing. “Did they ask you if you had any idea who might have been involved?”

She stopped slicing and looked directly at Harry. “They did ask me. I told them I had no idea.” Her eyes held his, almost challenging him to call her a liar. He felt she was holding something back, but he didn’t say anything. “It doesn’t matter, though, Harry, does it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your father’s dead. He’s not coming back.”

“I know that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what happened to him.” He had spoken too loudly, and Alice put her head down, staring at the perfect slivers of onion on the cutting board. When she looked up again, Harry could see bright spots of red on her cheeks.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It was a lot to take in this morning, and right now I just want to make dinner and not think about it. It’s enough that he’s not here, and now to know that . . . that . . .” She turned away, her shoulders beginning to shake, and Harry went and gave her a hug. She sobbed into his shoulder while he stroked her back.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “Dinner tonight sounds great. What time?”

She pulled away from him, and with a look of almost childish joy on her face she said, “Seven o’clock? Maybe a drink at six thirty? Have you had lunch? I can make you a snack.”

Harry accepted an apple, which Alice cut into slices and put on a plate for him, then he went up to his room.