“All those questions you asked about him when you came to my house. It was pretty obvious what you were getting at. Do you really think Peaty could’ve done something like that?”

“It’s an open investigation,” I said.

“Meaning you won’t say. Look, I appreciate what you guys do but I can’t just let you browbeat Billy.”

“Browbeating’s not on the agenda, Mr. Dowd. Just a few questions.”

“Believe me, Detective, he has nothing to tell you.”

“You’re sure about that.”

“Of course I am. I can’t allow my brother to be drawn into anything sordid.”

“Because he’s chronologically an adult but...”

“Exactly.”

“He doesn’t seem retarded,” I said.

“I told you, he isn’t,” said Brad. “What he is no one’s ever been sure. Nowadays he’d probably be called some kind of autistic. Back when we were kids he was just ‘different.’ ”

“Must’ve been tough.”

“Whatever.” His eyes shifted sideways toward the Cadillac. Billy rested his head down on the dashboard. “There isn’t a mean bone in his body, Detective, but that didn’t stop other kids from tormenting him. I’m younger but I always felt like the older brother. That’s the way it’s remained and I’m going to have to ask you to respect our privacy.”

“Maybe it would be good for Billy to talk,” I said.

“Why?”

“He seemed pretty traumatized by the news. Sometimes getting it out helps.”

“Now you sound like a shrink,” said Brad. New edge in his voice.

“You’ve got experience with shrinks?”

“Back when we were kids Billy got taken to all kinds of quacks. Vitamin quacks, hypnosis quacks, exercise quacks, psychiatric quacks. No one did a damn thing for him. So let’s all just stick to what we know best. You chase bad guys and I’ll take care of my brother.”

I walked over to the Caddy, Brad’s protests at my back. Billy sat up, rigid. His eyes were shut and his hands clawed the placket of his shirt.

“Nice seeing you again, Billy.”

“It wasn’t nice. This is a bad news day.”

Brad got in the driver’s seat, started up the engine.

“Real bad news,” I said.

Billy nodded. “Real real real bad.”

Brad turned the ignition key. “I’m backing out, Detective.”

I waited until they’d been gone for five minutes, then walked up to Nora Dowd’s door and knocked. Got the silence I’d expected.

Empty mailbox. Brother Brad had collected Nora’s correspondence. Cleaning up everyone’s mess, as usual. He claimed Billy was harmless but his opinion was worthless.

I got back in the Seville and drove away, passing Albert Beamish’s house. The old man’s curtains were drawn but he opened his door.

Red shirt, green pants, drink in hand.

I stopped and lowered the car window. “How’s it going?”