“I’m heading out in a couple of minutes,” she told me. I was in the family room off the kitchen, sitting in the recliner, watching the news, drinking some coffee. Doing my nonchalant thing. Doing it very well.

“Uh, actually, so am I,” I said, sensing the time had come to launch Operation Trevor, and stood up out of the chair. “I might as well take off now, too.”

I grabbed my jacket from the closet. I’d already tucked the Snapple bottle into a pocket, making it bulge out conspicuously. “Where you off to?” Angie asked.

“I just got a few things to do, and I’m meeting up with Lawrence, that detective I’m writing about, in a little while.”

“What’s in your pocket?” she asked, noticing the huge lump in my jacket.

“Just bringing a bottled water, something to drink in case I get thirsty,” I said.

Paul appeared in the front hall as I was about to leave. “Where you going?”

“I just told your sister. I’m doing a couple of things, then meeting up with Lawrence Jones.” The guilt I felt at not being totally honest with my son was offset by the six-pack of beer hidden in the backyard, I suspected, specifically for him. Trevor was doubtless old enough to buy booze, and was probably helping Paul get some.

Paul and I would definitely be having a chat about this. But not now. I had more pressing matters to deal with. I had a job to do. I was heading out into that dark night, a kind of Philip Marlowe, a private eye, going it alone against the forces of—

Enough.

“What if I need a ride tonight?” Paul asked. “Angie’s going out, you’re going out, Mom’s not here, there’s no car.”

I pulled out my wallet and handed him a twenty. Paul looked at it in his hand, not sure whether to believe his eyes. “If you run into a jam, grab a cab,” I said.

“A cab?” Paul said. “An actual cab? What if I end up not going out tonight?”

“Then you can give me the twenty back.”

Paul nodded quickly. “Well, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be going out.”

“Can I have the Virtue?” Angie asked, calling out from the kitchen. I glanced out and saw that it was at the end of the drive, blocking the Camry. I didn’t want to take the time to switch cars around.

“I’m taking it tonight,” I said.

“Aww. It’s got the sunroof.”

I said goodbye, got in the Virtue, moved the Snapple bottle from my jacket pocket to the cup holder, and slipped the key into the ignition. I turned it forward.

Whir whir.

What the? I turned the key again.

Whir whir.